


Bone Dreams (x)

by SamShep



Series: Bone Dreams (an Undertale choose your own adventure) [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Adorable Sans, Adventure, All choices are valid, Angst, Choose Your Own Adventure, Cis Female Character, Cis Male Character, Diary/Journal, E-mail, Epistolary, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Like more than half of the rest of this book is sex, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Not kidding, Other, POV Second Person, Poetry, Sans Is Ness Theory, Sans is not actually a skeleton, Skeleton Jokes, Skeleton Puns, Swearing, Texting, There is definitely sex, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, You Choose Gender of Main Character, and Reader likes it when Sans pins their wrists down, and is actually chubby, chubby sans, he is shaped very much like a human though, he just looks like a skeleton, should I warn for the sex?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-02-16 20:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamShep/pseuds/SamShep
Summary: You keep having these strange dreams. Dreams about doing research with a monster, a smiling skeleton named Sans. They feel so real they could be memories.Are you going crazy?What should you do?[A Choose Your Own Adventure](In effort to make Bone Dreams more accessible to people of differing preferences and ages I have partitioned out the content with different ratings. This is where the explicit content of Bone Dreams resides.)Note: Please don't judge this book by it's kudo/hit ratio. This just sends you to the beginning of the story (located in a different AO3 work). That one has a more relevant kudo/hit record.-> GotoBone Dreams Start





	1. Hi!

Welcome Reader!

If you are reading this chapter than you have stumbled upon this story not as intended. You actually want to click **Goto The Beginning** to start this Undertale choose your own adventure at the beginning. This is just a couple chapters (the explicit ones) in the middle of the story.

[Goto The Beginning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565772/chapters/29262303#pagetop)

Highlight if you want to know how to get this content: To get this (most explicit and most angsty) content you must choose to **journal** , **romance** Sans, go **searching** for him right away and then make sexytimes stuff **happen** when you get the chance!


	2. this chapter is prettymuch just sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **Warning:** If you haven't deduced, there will be _explicit sexual content_ in this chapter.
> 
> If you want that, proceed.
> 
> If not, click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12565772/chapters/29143716#pagetop).
> 
> This is Sans/Reader but Reader's gender identity is not mentioned. Could be M/F, M/M, or M/NB, your choice.
> 
>  **Highlight For Warnings:** Here be the angsty path. Like WHOA angst. It has some amazing sex scenes but it also has tragedy, eventual character death (not Sans). Eventual explicit sexual content could include a selection of the following; oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, anal sex, anal fingering, strong BDSM undertones, light bondage, erotic restraining. What you get depends on a choice you make in this chapter.

. . .

You decide you're definitely not done here.

"Watcha gunna do about the other one?" you ask.

You move your leg up and set your stockinged foot on his chest. You slide your toes just under the edge of his hoodie.

He looks at your foot like it's a sexy spider. When he looks back at you his eyes are alarmed and saying, _what the fuck do I do?_

Should you back down?

Before you can decide he drops the sock to the floor, moves his hands to your leg; one on your calf, the other at your ankle.

His hand shakes a little as he trails his fingers along your leg to the sock. He slides his thumb between your calf and the fabric. Five fingertips map out tingling paths of contact as he slowly guides the sock off.

It's much more sensual than you were expecting. Your breathing is nowhere near normal.

He lifts your ankle to slide the sock off your heel, locks eyes with you, then sets your foot back on his chest. His hand holding the sock drops to his side and he just lets the sock fall to the floor.

His expression says he's feeling... overwhelmed, his eyes seem like they're begging you for... help?

It worries you a little.

"Sans?" you ask, "Want me to stop?"

He inhales sharp like you'd said, 'I want to fuck you.' Apparently he'd missed the memo.

He doesn't say anything though.

"Sans?" you ask again.

"No," he whispers like a confession, "I don't want you to stop.

You take a deep breath and slide your foot down, back around his waist; your other leg up and around him from the other side. You lean back on your elbows and then use your legs to pull him closer to you. His hands find their way to your thighs, bare skin against bare skin.

His cheeks are flushed blue; his breathing, hard, irregular; eyes squeezed tight then opening to heatedly hold yours.

He looks so fuckable like this. You let your gaze caress his whole body and--"oh _fuck"_ \--his breathing isn't the only thing that's hard. The thin frabic of his shorts is doing nothing to hide this.

You can feel your body respond and you bite your lip.

You see his dick flex against his shorts-- _he's so turned_ on. And you just want that--really really want that--in your mouth-- _right now._

"I want to suck you," you pant, "My mouth is literally watering I want to suck you so bad."

 _"Fuck,"_ he says, squeezing his eyes shut again. He takes in a couple breaths before he says, "I've never…"

When he doesn't finish you ask, "..had someone suck you off?"

With eyes still shut, he nods.

You wait till he opens them and holds yours with his. Your breathing goes shallow under his gaze and you ask, "Want me to change that?" your voice comes out deeper.

He squeezes his eyes shut like he can't fucking deal but after a beat he looks down at you, reaches out to touch your mouth, lightly tracing the shape of your lips with his fingers.

You exhale and it's a shaky vocal sound.

His touch feels so intimate. It feels like a kiss.

It's fucking destroying you right now.

You let him just tease you like that till he moves his hand to cradle your cheek and uses only the pad of his thumb against the sensitive skin of your bottom lip. You open your mouth so his thumb slides in and you press your tongue against it. You suck on it like you want to suck his dick.

He takes in a sharp breath.

You grab his hand, run your tongue along his thumb as you slowly pull it out of your mouth. Then you lean your cheek against his palm, close your eyes, sigh. You turn and press your lips against it. His skin is like nothing you've felt before, somehow rock solid and kitten soft at the same time. It's like magic.

You look back and he's just staring at you in amazement.

"Come on," you say.

You coax him onto the bed, he leaves his slippers behind, and you guide him to a position laying on his back, head on the pillows. You settle yourself on your knees between his legs. You place your hands on his chest and slide them down his body just enjoying the way he feels; the shape of him--the solidity--the fact that you're allowed to do this.

When you reach his waist, you hook your fingers under the elastic bands of his shorts and boxers.

"Doing alright?" you ask him.

"Yeah," he says.

"Want me to keep going?"

 _"Very much so,"_ he says gruffly.

 _Fuck,_ the way he said that was hot.

You pull down on his waist bands and he lifts his hips so you can slide them over the curve of his ass. When the shorts and boxers get down far enough, his erection pops free; it bobs a little and settles in a position off his body but not straight up. It's like an arrow to his belly button, just barely visible; his shirt is rucked up revealing a band of bone-white skin.

His dick is white too but tinged blue like his flushed cheeks; so blue it's purple at the head. The shape is circumcised, size average, nicely thick, excellently shaped.

It's a gorgeous dick actually. You are very satisfied.

You bite your lip thinking about your mouth around it and his dick jumps with a surge of arousal.

Sans really has a thing for your lips, doesn't he?

You shift your left forearm onto his thigh and wrap your hand around the base of him. Your eyes meet his, your lips quirk up into a smirk, then you lean in and lick up the underside.

He leans his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. He lets out a breath that is half moan. You give him a second, you want him to watch you do this, at least at the start. You want to hold his eyes, read his reactions.

When he looks back to you he says, "Stardust…" softly.

You let out an amused huff at the almost sickeningly sweet nickname. "Yeah, Hot Sauce," you whisper, lips still quirked up.

"Can I hold your hand?" he asks, surprising you. You reach out with your right and he meets it with his left, interlocks your fingers and hugs your hand and forearm to his body. He settles your arms on his stomach, just above his belly button, underneath his shirt.

The action pulls at your heart in a surprisingly strong way. You remind yourself that this is new for him.

You're his first for this. You squeeze his hand a little as if to say, 'this is a big deal for me too. This is more than sex for me too.'

You hold his eyes and ease him into your mouth. His lidded eyes watch you all the way down.

You close your eyes for a moment to enjoy the way his firm dick feels against your tongue, your cheeks, your lips. _So much exquisite contact._

You moan and feel his dick surge in response. _Fuck it's so good._ You moan again.

You pull up, feeling everything with your tongue. When you reach the mushroom shaped head you increase the pressure from your mouth, experiencing it more fully with your lips.

You use the tip of his dick to trace out your bottom lip, then top lip, a callback to what he did with his fingers.

 _"Fuck, Stardust,"_ he exhales.

So _responsive._ So fucking _sexy._

You can physically feel how into this he is, each surge of arousal pumping through his already fucking hard dick presses it against your lips. You feel your own body responding each time it does.

He pulses again-- _Fuck_ \--alright, you're done playing with him. It's time to fuck him with your mouth.

You swallow him down. You take him deep. Your lips meet the hand wrapped around him--you suck--cheeks, tongue, and throat tight like a glove.

 _"Oh f--"_ he says in surprise. _"Alright Tiger_..." he adds breathlessly, "we need to use more words. How far is this going? Cuz I'm actually gettin close already and I don't know if you want to use your hands… or…"

You pull off, hugging him with your mouth the whole way up. "I can use more words," you pant. "Here's what I want; I'm gunna suck you till you come, you're gunna come down my throat."

 _"Holy shit,"_ he breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. When he can look at you again he says, as casually as he can manage, "Well--uh--if you insist."

You huff a laugh, "Appreciate the favor, Big Guy."

"You, uh, wouldn't mind doing one for me then, would ya?"

"Maybe," you say intrigued, "Whadaya want?"

He runs his free palm down his skull and covers his eyes while he asks, "Uh, think you could put the socks back on?"

For a second you just stare at him. That was not what you were expecting. Then he lifts his hand and looks at you. You see doubt there and you want it gone. You give him an affectionate smirk, "So, uh, the socks are a thing, huh?"

"Yeah," he sighs, "the socks are definitely a thing."

Wow, you stumbled right into a kink apparently. No wonder this worked so fucking well. And he just admitted to it; that's ridiculously hot. He's making himself all kinds of vulnerable for you right now.

"My answer is yes," you say. _"Fuck_ yes."

You wake up.

You open your eyes.

"Whoa."

Uh... Yep...

To: Kate

Date: September 15, 2017

From: Me

Sans and I were definitely a thing.

Fuckin a.

. . .

You sit at your desk and think about the fun you had with Sans last night; your lips tip up into a smile. It was amazing. A warm feeling pools in your gut and cascades lower. You squeeze your legs together.

Fuck, you loved watching Sans orgasm; the way he experiences them must be intense. Post-orgasm, he was kinda out of it for a couple minutes which made you feel like a sex-god. And after _that_ your heart just fucking melted because Sans got super cuddly.

His head was on your shoulder and his arm wrapped around your waist, hand at your hip with a couple fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt so his fingertips could touch your bare skin, but only just. Your legs were cuddling too with one of his knees snuggled under your bent legs, socked feet touching. You held him close with your arm around his back and pressed your lips to his smooth head. You were super keyed up from pleasuring him but your heart wanted to focus on just this quiet moment of closeness. You know you made the right choice.

You're not even that upset he got a call from his brother short thereafter and had to leave. He had a _seriously_ hard time walking away from you. You tried not to tempt him too much as you lounged seductively on the bed. But the way he looked at you--heat and intensity just barely restrained, left hand squeezed into a fist at his side like it was hard not to reach out--was all _want._ Adoration.

Promise.

 _Fuck,_ when can you see him again?

Wonder if he's thinking about you too?

Your phone buzzes--it's Sans. You huff a laugh and don't manage to keep it from being a tad a squeeky because the excited feeling you've been carrying around all day just spiked from embers to _whoa buddy_ in a second.

You pick up your phone and text:

sans  
  
**9/2/17** 2:05 PM  
sans: you've been on my mind all day  
  
Me: Can't stop thinking about you either.  
sans: realized i want to do some research though  
sans: so i'm prepared for next time  
sans: ...assuming there'll be a next time...  
Me: Yeah Big Guy. There's definitely going to be a next time.  
sans: good  
sans: so...this is a weird question  
sans: but do you have a [dick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061163/chapters/29877603#pagetop) or a [vagina](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061163/chapters/29877654#pagetop)?  


You stare at your phone with wide eyes.


	3. still prettymuch just sex (version d)

. . .

sans  
  
**9/2/17** 2:05 PM  
sans: you've been on my mind all day  
  
Me: Can't stop thinking about you either.  
sans: realized i want to do some research though  
sans: so i'm prepared for next time  
sans: ...assuming there'll be a next time...  
Me: Yeah Big Guy. There's definitely going to be a next time.  
sans: good  
sans: so...this is a weird question  
sans: but do you have a dick or a vagina?  


You stare at your phone with wide eyes. This is not a texting topic. You call him.

"Hey, Kid," he says with more casualness than you believe.

"You're a _virgin,"_ you blurt.

"Heh. Caught that did you?"

"I thought it was just oral you hadn't done, but you've never had any sex before yesterday, have you?"

"I kissed a girl once," he admits. "But that was it. That is, heh, until last night..." When you don't say anything he continues, "It doesn't bother you, does it?"

"No! No, it's not that. I just… you are... Uh, you know I'm not--a virgin that is--right?"

"I assumed," he says, humor in his voice.

"I just...uh...feel a little protective of you."

 _"Kid--"_ he starts to scold; you jump into to clarify.

"What I mean is, my ex and I did some risky stuff years ago and I... I never got tested. I just really want to be confirmed clean before you and I do anything else. I was gunna do condoms and consider that good but I feel... very strongly about knowing you're safe."

There is a pause and you start to worry he doesn't appreciate this protectiveness you're feeling. You're about to apologize when he speaks up, "If you're clean... does that mean we could... go without a condom?"

That is not what you were expecting. "Is.. that.. something you want?"

 _"Very much so,"_ he says, voice husky.

 _Fuck,_ every time he says those words like _that._

"Would you be open to that?" he asks.

"Uh… yeah. I... I would like that too."

"Uh-good. Heh. ...yeah," he says awkwardly.

"...yeah...good," you repeat and bite your lip. "--Oh! Uh, you asked about..." you squeeze your eyes shut, _damn_ this is more uncomfortable than you thought it would be. "Uh, I mean, I have a dick. ...You know, for your researching purposes."

"Uh, cool, I'll get right on that," he says. "Uh, I mean..."

You both laugh.

You wake up.

You open your eyes.

You still have a smile on your face.

. . .

You're laying on your stomach--set up on the floor this time--journal articles and reference texts spread out around you.

But you're doing a really shitty job focusing.

Sans is at his usual spot on the couch, five feet too far away to touch. You keep glancing up and biting your lip while you let your eyes roam over his body; his eyes intently focused on his work, broad shoulders covered only by a thin t-shirt, strong fingers wrapped around a pen.

When he catches you, you look down and start working again. You keep catching him looking at you though, too.

Of course, you're not making it easy on him; kicking your feet casually behind you, teasing him with his own socks again.

Also...

...you're _wearing_ his hoodie.

He let you seduce it off of him earlier.

And, _damn,_ the way it felt to guide the hoodie off; fabric against the back of your hands as your fingers and palms slid over his shoulders and slowly down his arms. The way it felt to trail the tips of your fingers over his worn t-shirt sleeves; down to the bare skin of his arms, thumb sliding over the curve of his bicep.

Your touch was gentle; you meant it to be light and teasing; but the tension between you turned it all to heat.

Fuck, just thinking about it now, you're feeling warm again.

And the expression he gave you after you did it, you held each other's eyes and time slowed. Seconds became breaths and you and Sans counted time in unison.

Heavy desperate seconds.

That is, until you broke the time bubble.

"Thanks," you breathed cheekily, walking away with the hoodie, slipping it on and plopping down to your spot on the floor.

You're not exactly sure what you were doing--what you _are_ doing--but you know exactly what you want. And you've been waiting all night for the perfect time to tell him.

He catches you watching him again and this time you don't look away. Spacetime freezes once more, the fault of both of you.

This time Sans is the one to break it. With a confession.

"You're driving me crazy," he whispers.

You inhale sharp.

"Gunna do something about it?" you ask.

He takes one deep deliberate breath. "Is that an invitation?"

Your lungs stop holding air the way they should. Voice hushed, you finally manage, "It's a challenge."

This time his deep deliberate breath has a shuddery exhale. He sets aside his work, gets up, stalks toward you. Your eyes follow his movement intently. As he gets close, you roll onto your back to look up at him. He steps over you so he has a foot next to each of your hips. You bite your lip and match his heated stare.

"Do you have any idea what you in that hoodie is doing to me?" he asks.

You do have an idea. His shorts are really bad at keeping secrets.

"Do you have any idea what you _out_ of this hoodie is doing to _me?"_ you counter.

He drops slowly down until he's on his knees. "I might have an idea," he says and then sits back on your hips.

 _"Oh, fuck,"_ you say as he grinds his ass on top of your dick. Your hands find their way to his legs and you roll your hips to press yourself against him.

He lifts his body up slightly so you can't do it again, supports his weight with his right hand next to your head. Damn, the guy is certainly a match for you when it comes to teasing.

It doesn't surprise you when he reaches out to kiss you with his fingertips. You let your eyes slide shut and just _feel._ This is a thing you've been doing that just _really fucking works_ for the both of you.

Seconds tick by--minutes maybe--time is doing strange things--it's sensations and snapshots; his hand shakes a little as he traces your contours, your breath flutters past his fingertips. By unspoken agreement he slips his thumb past your lips and you suck the length of it. His breath hitches.

"We should stop," Sans sounds breathless. He takes his hand away. You open your eyes and look up.

He looks wrecked, the tease of your dick against his ass and then your lips on his fingers is just a bit too much.

It's not the first time you've gotten each other _this_ worked up. But this time is different. 

"Or we could keep going," you say.

His eyebrows come together in a question.

"I got the results back today," you answer, "and they conclusively say you should probably fuck me as soon as possible."

His eyes widen incrementally. "Heh. Is that right Stardust?" amusement and desire deepen his voice, _"Well,"_ the tone is literally giving you chills down your spine, Sans' eyes smirk at your shiver. _"If you insist,"_ he growls, punctuating it by grinding back against you--your hold on his legs gets firmhard _desperate_ \-- _oh god_ \--your hips thrust without your input--right _there_ \-- _fuck yes_ \--Sans moans out _"ohfuck Stardust"_ \--oh _holy hell_ \--

When your consciousness returns from space he meets your eyes affectionately, he removes his ass from your hips, helping your brain do _braining_ again, and he leans down to touch his forehead to yours while you both remember how to fucking _oxygen._

"If--uh--if we're really doing this," he says, "you'll have to be active on the feedback, alright Kiddo?" You hear nervousness in his voice and you feel yourself just melt.

How is that even possible? You're such a pile of mush for him already.

 _"aha_ \--yes--of course--definitely," you agree, still a bit addled.

He holds you in this position for two more breaths and then leans back, stands up, pulls you up like you weigh almost nothing.

Hey, _whoa,_ he just manhandled you.

And you _definitely_ liked it.

You've been noticing more and more that you've really got a thing for how strong he is.

You want him to pick you up.

You want him to hold you down.

Right now though, you just want him to get naked with you.

But now that he isn't dominatingly above you like he was on the floor he's looking decidedly more awkward and nervous. You bite you lip trying not to smirk at his adorableness.

It doesn't work.

His response is to pout a little and dip his head coyly but, when he looks back up, there is sassy fire in his eyes.

The sassy fire is fucking mashing your buttons right now.

You take the lead this time with a deep breath and then a roll of your shoulders; the hoodie slides off, lands in a pile behind your feet. You're wearing one of your more fitted shirts, but two layers, so you grab the hems and ruck them up, cross your arms and pull both pieces of clothing off in one fluid motion. You let them fall to the floor.

Now you're topless in front of him. First time you've ever been.

He lets his gaze roam over your chest, stomach, shoulders. He looks pleased with what he sees. Then he matches your action, reaches to the collar at the back of his neck, pulls the shirt off smoothly, drops it.

He stands before you, posture suddenly stiff, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. It looks like he wants to put his arms across his body. It looks like he wants to cover himself up.

You let your eyes eat up his whole torso, they want to get caught on the _tattoos,_ especially the butterfly tattoo, high up on his right chest, but making it obvious to Sans that you fucking adore his _whole body_ is really important right now.

So, your eyes caress every inch that he's letting you see. You bite your lip when you think about how you're going to use your hands and lips on all that pale beautiful skin.

He stops clenching his hands but he meets your eyes with a lost look. "How can you find me so attractive?" he asks, "What do you see when you look at me?" There is pain in his eyes and you want to heal it so badly. "All I see is short, chubby, not-human. I don't understand it Stardust."

You wish he could see himself through your eyes. "I _do_ see short, chubby, not-human," you tell him softly, "and _it's fucking gorgeous."_

The worry in his eyes eases but doesn't disappear.

"It's okay if you don't believe it yet," you tell him, "I'll just keep letting you know."

It's a promise you start on right away; you let your gaze go heated as you take in his broad shoulders and impressive biceps which both allude to the understated strength you find so irresistible. A tattoo of a dragon covers his left shoulder and most of his left collarbone. You can see the edge of a heart tattoo on his right shoulder.

His core holds his weight pretty evenly over pecs, abs, obliques, with the most fat held on his belly. And his belly looks soft but heavy enough to hang just slightly over the band of his shorts. He is solid, powerful, maybe dangerous if he had to be, but at the same time he's soft, cuddly and small.

You love all of it.

You look back up to his face, his cheekbones have tinged blue under your scrutiny.

Damn. So cute. So hot. So... fuck--

"Uh, how about I show you how it's done," you say, bringing your hands to the front of your jeans, you undo and slide them down. You step out, wearing only his socks. "I love my body," you tell him, "and I really want you to enjoy it with me." It's a bold move and even with your confidence you feel nervous.

But Sans doesn't leave you there; alone, naked, and vulnerable, for long.

He follows your lead, slides shorts and underwear off to stand in only socks before you. He wants you, you can see it in his eyes and the hardness of his cock but he doesn't close the space between your bodies.

"That wasn't a suggestion," you tease. It's enough to get him moving; he steps forward, reaches his hand out to touch you and you project 'yes, please, take, touch, explore'.

He does; first traces your lips, familiar territory, already claimed as his. Electric touch then shifting down your neck, stalling at your chest. He lets his thumb catch against your nipple and your body jolts at the touch.

He continues to explore down, his other hand joining when he reaches your belly, his fingertips spread out as he slides both hands to your obliques, back and down to grab your ass and pull your body against his, bodies close enough that your dicks rub against each other.

You let out a whimper at the contact and he moves his left hand to palm you both. You squeeze your eyes shut, _"Fuck,"_ you moan but it's just a tease and he's already pulling away. You let out a desperate whimper.

"Soon Stardust," he says softly then he moves both hands to grab your hips, pushes you back gently. You don't quite register what's going on until your back hits the wall.

Sans knows what he's doing though; he grabs your wrists, moves them up above your head, traps them both with just his left hand.

With his right, he grabs your hip, slides his hand around to the small of your back, holding you against him, hips pressed tight together.

He meets your eyes for a second, almost like a question, finds the answer he was hoping for. You both slide your eyes shut and lean in, he touches his forehead to yours.

You let out a shaky breath and hear him echo you.

His body is holding yours at so many different points and lines of contact; you feel like he has every part of you wrapped up in him. But, even though your dicks are nestled together where your hips meet, the point of contact that touches you the deepest is the spot where his temple rests against yours.

It's the part where you're touching more than bodies. 

You're touching souls.

You wake up.

You open your eyes.

You wrap your arms around the empty feeling in your gut.

. . .

Research

To: Kate

Date: September 23, 2017

From: Me

Kate, I think I might want to join you for your research on monsters. When can we hang out together and scour your books?

. . .

You both slide your eyes shut and lean in, he touches his forehead to yours.

You can seem to get enough of him; his heart, his mind, his humor. His body.

In this moment, the way your scents mingle and fill your lungs; the way your souls mingle and fill your world.

The way it feels when another person's emotions flow with intensity and reciprocation through you.

"I've never felt like this before," you say in awe.

"I didn't know I _could_ feel like this," he breathes.

He releases your wrists and moves his hands down to grab your ass. You hop a little when he lifts you and you wrap your legs around him. He carries you easily to the bed, gently sets you down.

"My turn to touch you," you say, grabing his hand, guiding him to lay back on the bed, head on a pillow.

You arrange your body between his legs, slide your knees under his thighs so your legs have lots of contact with his. You reach out and set your palms on his pecs, slide your hands down, passing over his nipples. He slides his eyes shut and focuses on your touch. 

You're happy to see he's already a lot less self conscious, but he still clenches his hands a little when you get to his belly. You don't shy away, you enjoy his chubby tummy just as much as every other plot of skin he's sharing with you. All of his skin is firmer than human skin but his belly is the least firm and you love being allowed to touch this softest part of him.

You seriously adore his _whole body._ You're sad society has tried to convince him it's not fucking amazing.

You span your fingers, slide your hands out to his sides, pull them back in and you go lower, mapping twin tracks, hips to thigh. You intentionally save his dick for later. _Soon,_ you think at it when it looks bereft.

You slide your hands all the way back up, you trace his collar bones with your fingertips, moving out to his shoulders before you run your palms down his arms letting your thumbs enjoy the hills and valleys of his muscles.

When you reach his wrists he opens his hands, palm up, for you to explore.

You do. He has distinct lines on his palms and you trace them with your fingertips. With a feather light touch from your pointer fingers, you draw the length of each of his fingers, one at a time. You make a note--he has no fingerprints. You find the subtle differences exciting; this is how you discover him; this is how you learn what makes him feel good, what doesn't, and what feels really _really_ good.

His response when you reach the tip of each finger is a hitch in his breath like they are particularly sensitive.

You test it a couple times to be sure.

You're sure.

With a firmer touch you press your palms against his and slowly drag your hands down. He curls his fingers to catch your hands and you curl your fingers to let him.

Then you both tighten the hand hold.

The way he touches you sometimes, like right now, you can feel how much he wants you--so much that he feels vulnerable about it; that he wants the reassurance you're right here with him; that you're just as crazy about him as he is about you.

It tells you you're not the only one who feels like this.

You want him to know he's not alone.

You shift up onto your knees and support your weight with a hand on the bed between his side and his arm. You put your other hand on the bed next to his head and shift to put your weight on it. As you do, your dick comes into contact with his; your breaths both hitch at the accidental tease. It's not time for that though, not quite yet.

You lean down and touch your forehead to his in your version of a chaste kiss. "If my hands aren't saying it loudly enough," you whisper, "I fucking love your body."

"Heh, message loud and clear Stardust," he hums, "But uh... I like hearing the words too."

"I'm happy to use words _and_ touch then," you dip your hips down a little more and you both moan at the pressure. Fuck, you're teasing yourself as much as him right now. You decide to let him have the full weight of your body and--oh god _so much contact._

It takes your breath away.

 _"Fuck Stardust,"_ Sans moans, "been imagining you on me, just like this, all week."

"Have you?" you melt. _Oh my god,_ how can he be _this_ sweetly adorable? So excited just to have the weight of your body on top of him? You huff a laugh, "--uh, well, I can't wait to hear more about what you've been imagining."

You watch a blue blush spread across his cheeks and you bite your lip.

"Later," you say, partly to let him off the hook. For the moment. And partly to build up the anticipation. Alright, mostly for the anticipation.

For now though, your focus moves to the aesthetic enigma on his shoulder. You lift your body and redistribute your weight so you can hold yourself up with your right hand. You move to let your free fingers trace the shape of the blue and yellow butterfly spanning its wings just southwest of where his collar would be. There's ribbon tattooed loosely around it with several names.

"Tell me about this," you place your hand over it, "please." You're insanely curious.

He meets your eyes. "People I've loved and lost; friends," he motions to the butterfly on his chest, "family," he motions the heart on his shoulder, "I wanted to make sure I always remembered them... I got this so I could keep them close, so I would see their names every day."

The names read; Paula, Poo, Jeff on his chest, Mom, Tracy, and Dad on his shoulder. You trace them all with your finger. It seems so him. The heart behind it, the devotion, the disregard for male tattoo stereotypes.

"I love it," you say. You lean down so you can touch your forehead to his again; your body presses against his dick and this time you feel him flex against you. "I'm so ready to have you in me," you whisper.

"Makes two of us," he breathes. But when you lean back so you can meet his eyes, the look he gives you is worried.

"You're nervous," you blurt, then more softly add, "What are you nervous about?"

He takes a deep breath in and out. He shifts his hand up so he can hold your wrist, fingers gently wrapped around, like it's for comfort. "I...uh... really don't want to top you," he says.

"..Okay," you say. "...can you tell me why?"

"Stardust, I..." he seems torn but he takes a deep breath and continues, "Do you have any idea how strong I am?"

You don't, not really. You just know he's really fucking strong. "You're scared," you realize, "Scared you'll hurt me."

"I _hate_ the thought of hurting you," he says through a suddenly tight throat.

"...You...know that I find your strength really hot...don't you?"

His expression eases just a little, "I did notice," he says softly.

You smirk at him, "You like it, don't you?"

"Very much so," he says.

Oh, fuck, there he goes again with the fucking tone. You feel your dick flex against his body.

"Uhm, ah, yes. That's good. Were both _really good_ with that," you say a tad distracted and refocus. _"So,_ do you think you could maybe trust me to tell you if it's too much for me? You're trying to protect me, but I don't want you to make that decision on my behalf."

"I _do_ trust you Stardust. And I trust you to tell me. But that doesn't stop me from being scared... that I'll..."

"You do trust me... but... you don't trust you?"

"I won't be able to stop thinking about it," he agrees.

"Okay," you say, you lean in and touch your forehead to his, "Then we don't do that."

You finally feel the tension leave his body and your heart breaks for him. You can't imagine what it would feel like to be terrified of your _own body._ _Of course_ that would make sex difficult.

And, sure, you're disappointed, but at the same time so fucking _thankful_ that you didn't unknowingly push him to do something he didn't want to.

"Sans, I'm happy just to cuddle with you," you tell him honestly, "Naked cuddles. Or clothed."

He huffs, shakes his head, "How can you be this amazing?"

You snort a laugh, that's not exactly how you'd describe yourself. "Practice?" you answer playfully.

Did he really think you wouldn't be okay with it? You're not like that, but seriously, doesn't he know _how much_ you care about him?

A stronger word comes to mind; you feel your body tense up with the simultaneous need _to say_ and _not to say._ You push through your fear of being vulnerable and finally manage the hushed confession.

"...love."

Sans inhales sharp. "Fuck Stardust," he whispers and you can hear the affection and awe in his voice. He moves his hand up to cradle your cheek.

You take that to mean he really likes that you told him... but he's not quite ready to say it to you--and that's okay. You know that, out of the two of you, you tend to be the one with more energy to spare. You can put yourself out there for him first and wait for him to come to you when he's ready.

And you didn't say it so he would say it back.

You said it because it's _true._

"I do really want this--sex with you," he says, moving his hand back to your wrist. You feel a surprising amount of relief at those words. "I'm sorry my hangups are holding us back."

"I'm not sorry," you tell him. "This is how we learn each other Sans. Learning how to drive each other crazy is only one of many ways to do that. Learning how not-to-hurt each other is more important to me anyway."

 _"Well,"_ he says, his playful tone spurs a warm feeling in your gut, "maybe we could do both?"

"Yeah..?"

"I don't have any hangups about you fucking _me,"_ he says, voice going husky.

You inhale sharp.

"I can work with that," you say breathless.

"Hoped you'd say that."

You take a deep breath in, "Okay," you say, suddenly a little nervous. Sans smirks at you and it helps you get your snark back. "Are you _sure_ you want me to take control?" you say, making your tone a touch devious.

Sans eyes go a tiny bit wider and his dick flexes against you; you realize he's actually _more than okay_ with letting you have the control. Okay then.

"I'll take that as a yes," you smirk.

"Maybe a hell yes," he whispers.

Uah- _god, Sans,_ how can you be his adorably sexy?

You touch your forehead to his. Then smile just before rolling your hips as you hop up; you relish the feel of his hard dick against your body and the moan your motion elicits. You fetch your lubricant, settle yourself comfortably between his legs, and you put a generous amount of silicone gel on your fingers.

But, you don't want to dive right in, so you just slide your fingers over the sensitive skin of his entrence in a gentle tease. And, well, you have _two hands,_ you obviously have to use your free hand to finally love on his dick.

You stroke up, enjoying the feel of him, the velvety hardness. There is a drop of precum at the tip, and fuck you just want to lick it off _...but_ you know you won't be able to stop there. Instead, you slide your thumb through it then tease the head with his own wetness. Sans exhales hard and closes his eyes for a second; you bite your lip as you watch him through lidded eyes.

You feel your body respond and, when you look down at yourself, you see you're leaking more than he is; playing with his ass and dick is driving you a little bit crazy. You decide to use that to your benefit.

"Fuck," Sans says--he just noticed what caught your attention. _"Fuck"_ he says again when you use the wetness from yourself on him.

His cock throbs and leaks a little more.

Oh _god,_ you just _want._ This time you give into temptation; you lean down to lick off the drop, but dammit, that's not _enough,_ you knew it wouldn't be, and you just _have to_ swallow him down.

 _Oh fuck yes,_ you love the way his dick feels in your mouth. You love the way he tastes; just a little sweet; you love the way he _responds;_ breath broken around half-word expletives, legs and ass tensing with small involuntary thrusts of his hips, hands sliding on the sheets like he's searching for something to hang on to.

_You fucking love how much he fucking loves this._

_"Stardust,"_ he manages breathlessly, "if you want me to last you have to _stop."_

You stop, lean back, meet his eyes with a smirk. _"Yeah?"_ you raise your eyebrows, "Blow jobs, huh?"

"Tiger, your mouth drives me crazy when it's _not_ on my cock."

"Heh. Fuck. Okay, _definitely_ going to use that knowledge in the future."

Time to get serious though; you slide your finger on the outside one last time and then slowly push your first finger into him--damn--he's so _warm._ Definitely warmer inside than a human. And he feels incredibly soft; this is going to feel _amazing_ around your cock.

You notice the penetration has caused Sans dick to go soft and you worry for a second it isn't feeling good. "How's it feeling Baby?" you ask.

"Really good Stardust. Feels way better than when I did it to myself."

"You did this to yourself?" you ask, breathless with the sudden visual.

"Once," he answers, "Three night ago."

Fuck that's hot. That means it was part of his research for sex with _you._

"W-were you thinking of me?" your voice comes out quiet, wobbly, _affected._

 _"Very much so,"_ he says, a deep rumble.

 _Fuck._ You squeeze your eyes shut.

Now you're just thinking about Sans finger fucking himself on his bed wanting it to be _your dick_ in him. Your cock flexes at the thought of being inside your boyfriend.

 _"So,"_ you finally manage, opening your eyes to meet his, "those things you've been imagining this week, maybe some involved me fucking you?"

His cheekbones go adorably blue again and you have to bite your lip.

"Uh, yes, several," he says, sounding a lot embarrassed about it.

Which is _so_ not something to be embarrassed about. "Fuck that's so hot Sans," you tell him.

His hopeful, "Yea? _-ohh,"_ ends on a moan as you slide two fingers back in.

 _"Hell_ yeah." He's _so_ into the thought of you fucking him that he's had _several_ fantasies about it? Uh, _hell yes._

Also really fucking useful, because your brain hadn't gone there. You'd actually kind of assumed you couldn't penetrate him, in any way. Just logically, why would he have a fuckable asshole if he didn't have a mouth that opened and he never ate solid food? He certainly didn't seem to need one, biologically.

But, uh, now you have first hand experience showing you how wrong you were about that; it's a _very_ pleasant surprise.

"Sounds like we, uh, have a list of things to try," you're really breathless now.

"There were... several positions I was interested in trying with you," he says, obviously feeling less embarrassed with you being ridiculously on board with the plan.

"Yeah? Like queer Kama Sutra?" You realize you shouldn't be surprised, of course he would be very _thorough_ with his research. You slide out and back in three fingers this time.

 _"Fuck_ \--uh--kinda?" he continues, "I studied a website with gifs of positions where both people have dicks."

You fail to stifle a small chuckle, "Of course you did." You look at him, so fucking fond, then ask, "So, which one of your daydreams do you want to make real tonight?"

"Uh, well, we gotta move to the couch for it."

"Deal," you say, pulling gently out of him. You grab the lube and then pull Sans up out of the bed. He doesn't let go of your hand, just shifts the hand hold to interlocked fingers and drags you to the couch with him.

As Sans gets in position, you coat your dick with a liberal amount of lube and watch him work. He spreads the couch throw blanket over half the couch, kneels on it, angled with respect to the back of the couch, ass-side toward you. He glances over his shoulder, "You kneel right behind me," he says. 

You do.

You come in, close behind him, your dick rests teasingly against his ass but all you want right now is to _touch;_ his strong shoulders, his broad decorated back. He lets his head drop a little; opens his neck to be taken by you.

You take.

You place your open mouth on his neck, let your lips and tongue touch him as you close the caress in a kiss. You do that like slow steps up his neck to just below where his ear would be; he lets out small panting sighs as you do.

You slide your hands down to his hips, then around his belly in an embrace. You move your hands to his chest, pinch and roll both his nipples, relish the little shivers his body does in response.

You slide firm touch down his torso, all the way to his dick, and you let your hand love on him there too. He's not fully erect, but you don't want him to think you only like his dick if it's hard; you love it in all states, so you make the touch very light, teasing, sorta... _affectionate._ You project, _love to touch you_ and _this is just about feeling good, no expectations._

You feel him melt into you, like he was worried about it, but like he got the message and now he's just letting you take care of him; body, heart, and soul.

Your lungs feel suddenly small. That _trust._

"Fuck Sans, you're so gorgeous," you whisper against his neck.

You just can't get over the knowledge that he's _yours._ Your lover. Your sweetheart. Your _boyfriend._

You nuzzle up his cheek, pausing at his temple, _"Mine,"_ you whisper.

His body shudders in response.

"Yes. Fuck yes. _Stardust."_

Your exhale comes out broken and you have to close your eyes-- _he's so fucking hot_ \--and not just the way he looks and feels--but the way he _responds_ to you--the _things_ he does--oh _god._

And you're _so hard_ for him.

It feels like your body is reaching out for him with your dick. You want to be in him so badly. You bring your hands back and wrap one around yourself. You let the head of your dick tease the sensitive skin between his cheeks. He widens his stance; shifts to set one knee on the back of the couch and turns his torso, toward the raised knee, so you can look at each other. He reaches one hand out to your shoulder, slides it up so his fingers are at the back of your neck, his thumb at your jawline.

He meets your eyes, fuck, his expression, he wants you, _desperately._ You swallow, "Ready for me?" you whisper.

 _"Please,"_ he answers-- _begs._

You have to squeeze your eyes shut again; god he's driving you _crazy._ You turn your head so you can just press your lips against his palm for a moment. You try to calm yourself down; fuck, you're really worked up and you haven't even _entered_ him yet.

You want this to last. You want this to feel amazing for Sans too.

You don't let yourself stall for long though; your _everything_ just wants to give him what he's begging for. With a long breath, you line yourself up and push, inch by inch, into him-- _god he feels so good._

You watch his expression, it's pain-pleasure, you feel a pang of worry; you _need_ to know this is good for him.

"Fuck, you feel good Stardust," Sans says, like he can hear your thoughts.

You feel your negative tension melt away and you place your hands on his hips, then you thrust, slow at first but when he hums, _"harder,"_ you do as he asks.

And you look down, watch yourself slide out and then back into him--god that's hot--you roll your hips--and watch your cock--disappear-- _deep_ into--his fucking-- _beautiful_ \--body--

Sans watches too--"Love having you inside me," he pants--and, god, you love being inside him--and it feels like he's in you too--your heart is so fucking full--of Sans--of love--of desire--and awe--and fucking _fuck--_ your hands grab his hips harder--you thrust into him--and it feels like pure _want_ \--you roll your hips--your body shudders--can Sans can feel that?--how much you want him--you say it with each--slide of your dick--inside him--and you just _want_ \--to be closer--to be in him--to be held by him--where it's--warm--and tight--and close-- _fuck you're close_ \--you're already--so close--you squeeze your eyes shut--too close to coming--coming _inside him_ \-- _oh, fuck_ \--you want that--oh fuck--you want that _so bad_ \--you look at Sans--he holds your eyes--but fuck--you can't come now--not yet---Sans isn't---close enough----

You slow the pace and breathe----you reach up to his hand at your neck and you slide your fingers into the spaces between his fingers, you squeeze tight. Then you start a much slower thrust in. You flex your ass muscles hard to go just that little bit deeper-- _oh god--it still feels too good_ \--he still feels _so_ \--fuck-- _good_ \--you're too _close_ \--you don't want to come yet--you want him to come _with you_ \--

\--you need him right here with--you-squeeze your eyes shut--need to know that--you-suck in a lungful of air---u're not---alone. Alone in feeling---like _this_ \---

You need to know you're not alone----

feeling...

like....

_this..._

And suddenly you're not close.

 _Oh god,_ an intense emotion crashes down on you and you stop moving completely.

_What the fuck is is this?_

You take a deep breath and it comes out broken.

"Stardust, what's going on?" Sans asks gently squeezing your neck. You realize your eyes are still shut.

You shake your head. You don't want to talk. You don't want to open your eyes.

The feeling, now that you're listening, is this deep need for more, you feel too raw, you need more from Sans, this isn't _enough_ , your heart _hurts._

"Sans, I need..." your voice sounds as wrecked as you feel.

And you feel so stupid, but it's about telling him you love him and not hearing it back, it's about how much he's driving your body crazy and your heart crazy and your mind crazy and you're worried he's not here with you, he's not going as crazy as you are. You're so fucking lost on him, you've fallen so hard, so deep, so completely.

Is his heart as lost as yours?

Is he as deep as you?

Or are you alone?

Fuck, _are you alone_ in feeling like this?

It's so intense, you've never loved anyone, or anything, like this, not even close, and you're...

you're fucking _terrified._

"What do you need Stardust?" he says it like, _anything--whatever you need Baby._

What _do_ you need? What can he even give you? You don't want him to feel like he has to say it back. That's not even what you want. You want to wait for him to be ready. But you feel so _fucked up_ right now, you need to do _something..._

How are you going to navigate this?

You finally open your eyes and meet Sans concerned ones. "I need to stop," you say and then gently pull out of him. "I need to be closer to you"--that's stupid, your bodies are really close already--"I mean... I need you to hold me."

"Of course," he says, turning around to sit down on the couch and you find yourself in his lap, his arms wrap around your waist and pull you to him.

You're sitting on his thighs, your knees next to his hips. You wrap your arms around him; one hand on his back, the other at the back of his head. You bury your face in his neck and your breath hitches loudly at receiving all the contact you were so desperate for.

You try to take a deep breath and it doesn't sound anything like breathing. You feel a drop of dampness trail down and fall from the tip of your nose.

Fuck, you're actually crying, _god._

He squeezes you harder in response.

"Can you... tell me what happened Stardust?"

You don't want to talk about it. But you _need_ to talk about it.

"I was close and you weren't," you start, swallowing past how dumb that sounds, "I knew you were enjoying it, logically."

"Was it because I wasn't hard?"

 _"--No,"_ you insist, "Fuck no. Absolutely not. I know that it's really common to not stay hard during penetration. I _trust you_ when you tell me it feels good. It wasn't just that I was closer than you... before, when I told you I love you, I know you just aren't ready to tell me--and that's okay--it's really okay. But I think the combination has me feeling really vulnerable. Emotionally raw. ...Scared I'm in deeper than you are," your voice is now a whisper, "Scared I'm alone feeling like this."

"Fuck, Stardust, I'm right here with you," he says, "you're _not_ alone. You're not the only one feeling _this._ I feel it too." It's ridiculous how much relief you feel at those words.

You swallow. "Yeah?" you say, so much stupid hope, piti-hope, in your tone.

"Yeah, Stardust, I'm _crazy_ about you. I love the way you look, I love the way you feel, I love your brain and your heart, the way you look at me and the way you touch me," his voice goes gentle, "I love the way you love me."

He's still not saying _it._ Except he _is_ saying it, over and over again, I love...you, I love...you, I love...you.

And this is Sans, of course he would find a way to say it without saying it. And you're getting the message in the way his hands are touching your back and the words he's saying to you; you're not alone. _You're not alone._ He's right here with you. Just as deep as you are. Maybe just as scared.

"Every moment I have with you is a gift," he continues, "And you never stop amazing me. Sometimes I can't even believe you exist and that you want _me._ But I know it. I see it because you let me see it. You open yourself up to me, you let me see you Stardust," he nudges you so you look up and meet his eyes, "And it's breathtaking."

You feel another couple tears leave your eyes and you bury your face in his neck again; hold him to you harder, _"Fuck Sans."_ You take several deep shaky breaths and then meet his eyes again. You touch your forehead to his in a kiss. "Ugh, god, sorry for being such a dope."

He puts his hand on your cheek, "I'm not sorry." He caresses your cheek with his thumb, "This is how we learn each other, right?"

You huff a soggy chuckle, "Yeah, I guess so." You oxygenate some more then, "Did I totally ruin the mood?" you ask, "I don't actually want to end here."

"Heh, well, I could definitely go for more," he whispers, "...And, uh, I have an idea for a new position."

"Well I'm up for it," you say. Now that you are much more emotionally fulfilled you're quickly getting hard again at the thought of more sex with your boyfriend.

"Well... the position I was thinking about would have me penetrate you, but with you on top--so I don't have to thrust. This position would let us hold each other close and... you would be able to enjoy my strength."

 _"Fuck yes,_ that sounds perfect," you breathe. It's like literally everything you want right now. "Let's make this happen," you say, shifting off of him to lay back on the couch, moving the lube from under your back and putting it in Sans' hands.

"Heh," he smirks at you fondly, "no need to rush it Stardust."

And apparently he really believes that, because he sits in front of you and just touches you, sensual, affectionate, _maddeningly slow._

He trails his fingers up your shins, palms over your knees, and then back down your thighs, spreading your legs apart a little more. He reaches through the bend of your knees to your hips and then slides his hands down, under your butt, making your dick bob and your hips roll in a way that apparently turns you both on--if you're reading Sans intake of air correctly.

 _"Sans,"_ you moan-complain.

"Okay okay," he concedes, but then, "Can't I just enjoy my lover's body?"

His _lover. "Fuck._ Okay, _yes._ But I want you to do that from inside me, _okay?"_

"Fair enough, if you _insist,"_ he says, eyes smirking.

He puts a generous amount of lubricant on his fingers and then paints a cool line of it between your cheeks. Thankfully he's finally listening, and quickly pushes in. "Yes, fuck, _finally,"_ you moan and push back against him, "more."

"..okay," he says, way more breathless than a second ago. He slides out and back in two fingers thick.

"Oh, god, yes, that's good," you say as he stretches you out, and then, "Okay, we're good that's enough."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. I know my body Sans," you tell him. You hold his eyes, "And it's really fucking ready to have you inside me."

"Okay," he says, breathy-serious, and sits down on the blanket. You get up, smirk at his very interested dick, then him.

"You're seriously drivin' me crazy Stardust," he accuses.

You bite your lip and watch the responsive throb of his cock.

"I can see that," you sass. But honestly, fuck banter, "How do you want me?" you ask.

"All the ways," he answers and you raise your eyebrow at him. "Here," he motions to his lap.

You move where he says, line him up with you, and slide onto him _\--oh, god--fuck yes--_

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a moment to just relish the intensity of sensation, physically and emotionally--ah, _dammit,_ you wanted to watch Sans' expression--you open your eyes-- _oh god_ \--the way he's looking at you--awe and want and _surrender_ \--

You roll your hips--god, yes--you don't let your eyes close this time--his do--squeezed shut--he tips his back like it's just too fucking intense--

You stop moving your hips so he can come back to you. He does.

"Legs on my arms," he says. You move your hands to the back of his neck for support then shift back to bring your knees up-- _ah, god,_ that grind was accidental.

He slides his hands under your knees and the backs of your knees settle in the crooks of his elbows. Then he just hugs you to him for a moment-- _oh_ \--his belly brushes teasingly against your cock in a really great way.

"Are you ready for this Stardust?"

 _"Very much so,"_ you say and then he just lifts you up, like it's no big deal-- _oh wow_ \--and he slowly lowers you, working with gravity, to have you slide back down him--fuck _yes._ He lifts you up-- _really fucking_ \--and back down-- _god that's good_ \--and up again.

"You just like showing off--don't you?" you pant.

 _"Oh_ I do this for both of us Stardust," he says smugly. The cocky little brat. But, _fuck,_ he's not wrong, you find this _incredibly sexy._

He's like _\--god--_ literally fucking himself with you right now.

And it's really _hot_ \--really really _hot_ \--you can feel him and you can watch him and he's so fucking _strong_ \--you just have to slide your hands out, grab his shoulders then his biceps, feel them flex and strain as he lifts you up and lets you down, skin warm, just a little slick--fuck his body is _amazing,_ and the way he's using it-- _god_ \--this _feels so good_ \--

 _\--"you're so beautiful,"_ he whispers--and you have to--move--hands back to his neck--palm on his cheek--you lean in--touch your forehead to his--pant the same air--as he moves you--as you listen to him--breath stuttered and broken--he's driving himself _crazy_ \--and it's _your body_ \--doing that--it's how he feels _about_ you--doing that--he's getting close--his body--tensing--trembling--his dick's so hard-- _he's really close--_

"Sans--need to touch myself--wanna come with you."

" _\--Fuck._ I want to--Stardust," he lets you slide all the way down, stops, "I want t'do it."

"Fuck yes," you pant.

You readjust the position to make it work, he lets your legs down, shifts his butt up so you can wrap your legs behind him. Then you lean back, give him access to your dick, support your weight with one hand at the back of his neck. Sans wraps his left hand around your leaking erection, you grab his left arm just above the elbow to reinforce the position. He settles his free hand at your back, just a little more support.

But this new position really wants him to thrust and you know how he feels about that. "You're okay with this?" you ask.

"I think..." He thrusts his hips tentatively, pushing deeper into you, "It feels good for you?"

"Oh _fuck yes_ it does. Really fucking good. And we're nowhere near my limits of roughness."

He thrusts again a little more confidently.

"Fuck yes, Sans, just like that."

"Yeah," he nods as he throbs inside you, "Yeah, I'm good with this."

And you grind, and he thrusts. You just _focus_ , you use your body--drive you both _"oh fuck yes"_ you say as he thrusts a little harder, a touch more _sure_ \--a touch more _rough_ \--and his hand--god--wrapped around you--sure firm strokes, he knows _exactly_ what he's doing, _a little different,_ just _enough_ you can't help _thinking,_ _fuck,_ _his dick,_ his _hand_ around it, _yes_ \--

 _ohhh,_ but _there, right now,_ his dick's just _deep,_ _thrusting deep,_ _deep_ inside you--you meet his eyes, and you hold them--god, _his expression_ , the same one, eyes wide, eyebrows pinched, awe, surrender, _love_ \-- _so open_ \-- _you feel that_ too, _feel it in you_ \--reflect it _back_ so he can see it-- _"oh"_ you breathe--and your toes curl, legs tight to him, bodies close--fuck, you're close--you're _fucking close_ \--eyes shut, head back--

 _NO_ \-- _you need to see him_ \--you want to _watch this_ \-- _"oh fuck Stardust,"_ on his breath--and _there_ \--right _there_ \--at his hand--where he holds you--spreading out--your body _tensing tight_ on his cock-- _and there_ \-- _right--there_ \--you _take him with you_ \--and fuck-- _you just_ \--you _need to_ \--you _have to_ \--just _fucking_ \-- _hold his eyes_ \--as you feel _your brain_ and _your body_ \-- _all of it_ fucking-- _everything_ \-- _oh my god_ \---you're _coming_ \---coming _on him,_ painting ribbons _on_ his chest and _"fuck" he's coming,_ _empties in_ you and you watch him, oh god, you just watch him, _oh god,_ he's so _hot,_ oh god, he's

.... _just.....so_....

.... _fucking_....

.... _hot_....

  


...oh my god...

...breathing...

...just trying to fucking...

... _breathing_...

...Sans tries to hold you up...

...but his arm is trembling...

..actually, so are yours..

you pull yourself up.. then.. just melt into him.

\--Ah, _fuck_ there's a mess on his chest.

Well, too late now. You just wrap your arms around him while you both pant. And just process. Endorphins. Oxytosin. ...Damn.

 _"...damn Sans,"_ you say when you finally get the air for it.

Sans doesn't respond; he's a bit out of it still. You smile.

He should probably lay down though. And he's _definitely_ gunna need some cuddles. You pull off so you can nudge him to lay back then cuddle him, but you immediately realize a complication.

Though you'd love to keep what he left inside you, your body won't cooperate and you don't love the sensation of leaking.

"Okay Baby, I'm gunna be right back," you say as you guide him to a more horizontal position, "I just need to get us cleaned up." You touch your forehead to his before rushing off.

You quickly clean up your stomach, legs, dick and ass, then bring out a clean warm washcloth to fix Sans up too. He's just starting to get responsive. He reaches out for you with a little frown and a grumble of complaint as you move away to put the washcloth back.

"I'll be _right_ back," you smirk at him.

He's hella tempting but you're really fucking thirsty. You fill and drink from the plastic water cup you keep in the bathroom, twice. Sans is probably thirsty too; this was pretty _robust_ sex; you fill it again so you can help him stay hydrated as well. You want to take care of him, especially since he just took such good care of _you._

When you come back out, Sans is sitting on the edge of the bed, his boxers already on but nothing else. You hand him the water and grab your underwear to be similarly clothed.

You slide onto the bed and situate yourself behind him, knees bent, sitting on your (still socked) feet so you can snuggle him with your legs. He finishes the water and sets the cup on the floor. You wrap your arms around his waist when he sits back up, resting your chin on his shoulder. You have your front in full contact with his back and he melts into the embrace, bringing his arms up to hug yours to him.

"You'll stay?" you ask him.

"Definitely." He says it with relief like he was worried you wouldn't want that. What a goof.

"Good," you smirk then playfully nibble-kiss his neck; he lets out a hitched breath and a shudder; the good kind of chills. "That was pretty fucking intense," you admit, "Physically and emotionally. I really just want to snuggle up in your arms and fall asleep right now."

"Makes two of us," he agrees softly.

_Yeah..._

Sans needs the cuddles.

You smile and bite your lips as your gut melts from his cuteness. You nuzzle his neck affectionately; it's a good thing cuddles are exactly what you want to give him right now. You squeeze him a tiny bit tighter and he hums contentedly.

"So... I'm in love with you," you tell him.

"I know," he says, you hear amazement in voice, "I can feel it... I love the way it feels to be loved by you," he confesses.

"Good," you whisper. You hug him tight one last time before you both shift back onto the bed. There's a moment where neither of you is sure who's gunna be the big spoon and who's gunna be the little spoon but then you just... fall into place. Sans on his back and you curled around him; his arm around your shoulder and your leg thrown over his legs.

"You already talked to your brother?" you ask him.

"Yep, Papyrus isn't expecting me back tonight."

"All mine for the night then," you smile.

"All yours," Sans says softly.

Your breath goes shallow at what he's subtly saying. You don't know why he doesn't just say it, but it's not because the words aren't true. Sans loves you. You can feel it, just like he can feel your love. You can read between the lines and those lines are fucking surrounded by how much he loves you. You bring his hand up to your mouth and press your lips against his skin.

You listen to his breathing slow. "Are you asleep already?" you ask.

"Huh... what..was..that..Stardust..?" he says sleepily. You look up so you can see his face-- _damn_ he's cute. You can't even deal sometimes.

"You are so fucking adorable," you whisper.

"...okay..." he barely manages through drowsiness and you chuckle when he starts making quiet sounds of slumber almost immediately.

You snuggle into him a little more. You just want to hold onto this moment, savor and save it forever.

But your eyes slide shut without your consent.

You open your eyes.

You reach out for Sans.

Your hand falls through the empty air beside you, the place where Sans should be.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

He's not here.

He's never been here.

. . .

  
space  
the empty place  
beside me  
that should be you  
  
time  
inside then  
when i find you and  
my hollow mind now  
  
spacetime  
the grid that binds  
your fate and mine  
i follow  
  
this is how I find you  
  


[. . .](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061163/chapters/30938025#pagetop)

  
  
  



	4. & also prettymuch just sex (version v)

. . .

sans  
  
**9/2/17** 2:05 PM  
sans: you've been on my mind all day  
  
Me: Can't stop thinking about you either.  
sans: realized i want to do some research though  
sans: so i'm prepared for next time  
sans: ...assuming there'll be a next time...  
Me: Yeah Big Guy. There's definitely going to be a next time.  
sans: good  
sans: so...this is a weird question  
sans: but do you have a dick or a vagina?  


You stare at your phone with wide eyes. This is not a texting topic. You call him.

"Hey, Kid," he says with more casualness than you believe.

"You're a _virgin,"_ you blurt.

"Heh. Caught that did you?"

"I thought it was just oral you hadn't done, but you've never had any sex before yesterday, have you?"

"I kissed a girl once," he admits. "But that was it. That is, heh, until last night..." When you don't say anything he continues, "It doesn't bother you, does it?"

"No! No, it's not that. I just… you are... Uh, you know I'm not--a virgin that is--right?"

"I assumed," he says, humor in his voice.

"I just…uh…feel a little protective of you."

 _"Kid--"_ he starts to scold; you jump into to clarify.

"What I mean is, my ex and I did some risky stuff years ago and I… I never got tested. I just really want to be confirmed clean before you and I do anything else. I was gunna do condoms and consider that good but I feel… very strongly about knowing you're safe."

There is a pause and you start to worry he doesn't appreciate this protectiveness you're feeling. You're about to apologize when he speaks up, "If you're clean... does that mean we could… go _without_ a condom?"

That is not what you were expecting. "Is.. that.. something you want?"

"Very much so," he says, voice a little deeper. _Fuck,_ every time he says those words like _that._ "Would you be open to that?" he asks.

You really really are. And since you don't need to worry about pregnancy you can't think of a reason why not to. "Uh… yeah," you tell him, "I... I would like that too." You smile dopey and bite your lip to try to stop. It doesn't work.

"Uh--good. Heh. ...yeah," Sans says awkwardly.

"...yeah...good," you repeat. And okay, you're just both dorks. "--Oh! Uh, you asked about…" you squeeze your eyes shut, _damn_ this is more uncomfortable than you thought it would be. "Uh, I mean, I have a vagina. …You know, for your researching purposes."

"Cool, I'm gunna do that right now," he says, "Uh, I mean…"

You both laugh.

You wake up.

You open your eyes.

You still have a smile on your face.

. . .

You're laying on your stomach--set up on the floor this time--journal articles and reference texts spread out around you.

But you're doing a really shitty job focusing.

Sans is at his usual spot on the couch, five feet too far away to touch. You keep glancing up and biting your lip while you let your eyes roam over his body; his eyes intently focused on his work, broad shoulders covered only by a thin t-shirt, strong fingers wrapped around a pen.

When he catches you, you look down and start working again. You keep catching him looking at you though, too.

Of course, you're not making it easy on him; kicking your feet casually behind you, teasing him with his own socks again.

Also...

...you're _wearing_ his hoodie.

He let you seduce it off of him earlier.

And, _damn,_ the way it felt to guide the hoodie off; fabric against the back of your hands as your fingers and palms slid over his shoulders and slowly down his arms. The way it felt to trail the tips of your fingers over his worn t-shirt sleeves; down to the bare skin of his arms, thumb sliding over the curve of his bicep.

Your touch was gentle; you meant it to be light and teasing; but the tension between you turned it all to heat.

Fuck, just thinking about it now, you're feeling warm again.

And the expression he gave you after you did it, you held each other's eyes and time slowed. Seconds became breaths and you and Sans counted time in unison.

Heavy desperate seconds.

That is, until you broke the time bubble.

"Thanks," you breathed cheekily, walking away with the hoodie, slipping it on and plopping down to your spot on the floor.

You're not exactly sure what you were doing--what you _are_ doing--but you know exactly what you want. And you've been waiting all night for the perfect time to tell him.

He catches you watching him again and this time you don't look away. Spacetime freezes once more, the fault of both of you.

This time Sans is the one to break it. With a confession.

"You're driving me crazy," he whispers.

You inhale sharp.

"Gunna do something about it?" you ask.

He takes one deep deliberate breath. "Is that an invitation?"

Your lungs stop holding air the way they should. Voice hushed, you finally manage, "It's a challenge."

This time his deep deliberate breath has a shuddery exhale. He sets his work aside, gets up, stalks toward you. Your eyes follow his movement intently. As he gets close, you roll onto your back to look up at him. He steps over you so he has a foot next to each of your hips. You bite your lip and match his heated stare.

"Do you have any idea what you in that hoodie is doing to me?" he asks.

You do have an idea. His shorts are really bad at keeping secrets.

"Do you have any idea what you _out_ of this hoodie is doing to _me?"_ you counter.

He drops slowly down until he's on his knees straddling you. He leans forward, supporting himself over you with his right hand next to your head.

He is suddenly _much_ closer and your breathing speeds up because of it.

"You do seem pretty affected," he whispers a bit breathlessly.

He shifts one of his knees and nudges your thigh, you spread your knees wider inviting him between them. His knees settle on the floor, moving his hand next to your side, and he holds himself _just_ too far away.

And, _fuck,_ you want his body closer to you--like _on top of you_ \--that would be good. You squeeze your hands into fists around the soft ends of the hoodie sleeves. It's _so_ hard not to reach for him, not to pull him down, not to have the length of his body lined up with yours.

But you don't do it, because right now?--he's taking the lead. And you _really_ want to see what he does with it.

It's like the universe aligns when he reaches out to kiss you with his fingertips. You let your eyes slide shut and just _melt_ into the touch.

This is a thing you've been doing, his fingers to your lips, that just _really fucking works_ for the both of you.

Seconds tick by--minutes maybe--time is doing strange things--just sensations and snapshots; his hand shakes a little as he traces your contours, your breath flutters past his fingertips. By unspoken agreement he slips his thumb past your lips and you suck the length of it. His breath hitches.

"We should stop," Sans whispers like it's painful for him. He takes his hand away, leans back to sit between your legs. You open your eyes and take him in.

He looks wrecked; cheekbones flushed, eyes shut, hands squeezed into fists on his lap.

Seems you aren't the only one having trouble not touching.

It's not the first time you've gotten each other _this_ worked up. But this time is different.

"Or we could keep going," you say.

He opens his eyes wide, then his eyebrows come together in a question.

"I got the results back today," you answer, "and they conclusively say you should probably fuck me as soon as possible."

His eyes widen incrementally again. "Heh. Is that right Stardust?" He's back above you--close but still too far--you reach for his waist before you can stop yourself. Sans stops you. Your right wrist is in his hand and he pins it above your shoulder. _"Well,"_ he says, amusement and desire deepening his voice, _"if you insist."_ The tone is literally giving you chills down your spine. Sans' eyes smirk at your shiver.

You push against his hold, just to feel his strength; you've been noticing more and more that you've really got a thing for just how strong he is. He raises an eyebrow and then shows off by grabbing your other wrist, still at his waist. He moves it up and pins that one as well.

 _"Oh,_ fuck that's hot," you say.

"You're not wrong," he almost growls, also affected. Then he moves them both up together above your head and-- _finally, fucking, finally_ \--his hips connect with yours. Ah, _god,_ he's so _hard for you_ \--yes-- _fuck, yes_ \--right _there_ \--you wrap your calves around his legs--pull him tighter--you register his _"ohfuck Stardust"_ \--oh _holy hell--oh--_

When you can think again he meets your eyes with heated affection, he leans down to touch his forehead to yours while you both remember how to fucking _oxygen._

"If--uh--if we're really doing this," he says, "you'll have to be active on the feedback, alright Kiddo?" You hear nervousness in his voice and you feel yourself just melt.

How is that even possible? You're such a pile of mush for him already.

 _"aha_ \--yes--of course--definitely," you agree, still a bit addled.

He holds you in this position for two more breaths and then leans back, stands up, pulls you up like you weigh almost nothing.

Hey, _whoa,_ he just manhandled you.

And you _definitely_ liked it.

But now that he isn't dominatingly above you like he was on the floor he's looking decidedly more awkward and nervous. You bite you lip trying not to smirk at his adorableness.

It doesn't work.

His response is to pout a little and dip his head coyly but, when he looks back up, there is sassy fire in his eyes.

The sassy fire is fucking mashing your buttons right now.

You take the lead this time with a deep breath and then a roll of your shoulders; the hoodie slides off, lands in a pile behind your feet. You're wearing one of your more fitted shirts, but two layers, so you grab the hems and ruck them up, cross your arms and pull both pieces of clothing off in one fluid motion. You let them fall to the floor.

Now you're topless in front of him. First time you've ever been.

He lets his gaze roam over your chest, stomach, shoulders. He looks pleased with what he sees. Then he matches your action, reaches to the collar at the back of his neck, pulls the shirt off smoothly, drops it.

He stands before you, posture suddenly stiff, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. It looks like he wants to put his arms across his body. It looks like he wants to cover himself up.

You let your eyes eat up his whole torso, they want to get caught on the _tattoos,_ especially the butterfly tattoo, high up on his right chest, but making it obvious to Sans that you fucking adore his _whole body_ is really important right now.

So, your eyes caress every inch that he's letting you see. You bite your lip when you think about how you're going to use your hands and lips on all that pale beautiful skin.

He stops clenching his hands but he meets your eyes with a lost look. "How can you find me so attractive?" he asks, "What do you see when you look at me?" There is pain in his eyes and you want to heal it so badly. "All I see is short, chubby, not-human. I don't understand it Stardust."

You wish he could see himself through your eyes. "I _do_ see short, chubby, not-human," you tell him softly, "and _it's fucking gorgeous."_

The worry in his eyes eases but doesn't disappear.

"It's okay if you don't believe it yet," you tell him, "I'll just keep letting you know."

It's a promise you start on right away; you let your gaze go heated as you take in his broad shoulders and impressive biceps which both allude to the understated strength you find so irresistible. A tattoo of a dragon covers his left shoulder and most of his left collarbone. You can see the edge of a heart tattoo on his right shoulder.

His core holds his weight pretty evenly over pecs, abs, obliques, with the most fat held on his belly. And his belly looks soft but heavy enough to hang just slightly over the band of his shorts. He is solid, powerful, maybe dangerous if he had to be, but at the same time he's soft, cuddly and small.

You love all of it.

You look back up to his face, his cheekbones have tinged blue under your scrutiny.

Damn. So cute. So hot. So... fuck--

"Uh, how about I show you how it's done," you say, bringing your hands to the front of your jeans, you undo and slide them down. You step out, wearing only his socks. "I love my body," you tell him, "and I really want you to enjoy it with me." It's a bold move and even with your confidence you feel nervous.

But Sans doesn't leave you there; alone, naked, and vulnerable, for long.

He follows your lead, slides shorts and underwear off to stand in only socks before you. He wants you, you can see it in his eyes and the hardness of his cock but he doesn't close the space between your bodies.

"That wasn't a suggestion," you tease. It's enough to get him moving; he steps forward, reaches his hand out to touch you and you project 'yes, please, take, touch, explore'.

He does; first traces your lips, familiar territory, already claimed as his. Electric touch then shifting down your neck, stalling at your chest. He lets his thumb catch against your nipple and your body jolts at the touch.

He continues to explore down, his other hand joining when he reaches your belly, his fingertips spread out as he slides both hands to your obliques, back and down to grab your ass and pull your body against his, you feel his hard cock press against your clit-- _oh fuck yes--_

You let out a whimper at the contact and he shifts back to place his left hand low on your belly. He meets your eyes like a question. You answer with a look that says, _what the fuck are you waiting for?_ but then decide to verbally confirm, "Yes Baby, please."

He listens. He slides his hand down, with--oh--just the right amount of pressure right _there_ with his palm--and then _finally_ he slides his fingers down between your legs where you're wet and wantonly sensitive.

 _"Fuck,"_ you moan and hear him jinx you. Oh, you want him in you, you want him in you _so bad._ But after a deliciously teasing dip of his finger he cruelly pulls away.

You let out another whimper. This one's actually desperate.

"Soon Stardust," he says softly then he moves both hands to grab your hips, pushes you back gently. You don't quite register what's going on until your back hits the wall.

Sans knows what he's doing though; he grabs your wrists, moves them up above your head, traps them both with just his left hand.

With his right, he grabs your hip, slides his hand around to the small of your back, holding you against him, hips tight together, his dick pressing teasingly against your clit.

He meets your eyes for a second, almost like a question, finds the answer he was hoping for. You both slide your eyes shut and lean in, he touches his forehead to yours.

You let out a shaky breath and hear him echo you.

His body is holding yours at so many different points and lines of contact; you feel like he has every part of you wrapped up in him. But, even though the most sensitive parts of your bodies are nestled together where your hips meet, the point of contact that touches you the deepest is the spot where his temple rests against yours.

It's the part where you're touching more than bodies. 

You're touching souls.

You wake up.

You open your eyes.

You wrap your arms around the empty feeling in your gut.

. . .

Research

To: Kate

Date: September 23, 2017

From: Me

Kate, I think I might want to join you for your research on monsters. When can we hang out together and scour your books?

. . .

You both slide your eyes shut and lean in, he touches his forehead to yours.

You can seem to get enough of him; his heart, his mind, his humor. His body.

In this moment, the way your scents mingle and fill your lungs; the way your souls mingle and fill your world.

The way it feels when another person's emotions flow with intensity and reciprocation through you.

"I've never felt like this before," you say in awe.

"I didn't know I _could_ feel like this," he breathes.

He releases your wrists and moves his hands down to grab your ass. You hop a little when he lifts you and you wrap your legs around him. He carries you easily to the bed, gently sets you down.

"My turn to touch you," you say, grabing his hand, guiding him to lay back on the bed, head on a pillow.

You arrange your body between his legs, slide your knees under his thighs so your legs have lots of contact with his. You reach out and set your palms on his pecs, slide your hands down, passing over his nipples. He slides his eyes shut and focuses on your touch. 

You're happy to see he's already a lot less self conscious, but he still clenches his hands a little when you get to his belly. You don't shy away, you enjoy his chubby tummy just as much as every other plot of skin he's sharing with you. All of his skin is firmer than human skin but his belly is the least firm and you love being allowed to touch this softest part of him.

You seriously adore his _whole body._ You're sad society has tried to convince him it's not fucking amazing.

You span your fingers, slide your hands out to his sides, pull them back in and you go lower, mapping twin tracks, hips to thigh. You intentionally save his dick for later. _Soon,_ you think at it when it looks bereft.

You slide your hands all the way back up, you trace his collar bones with your fingertips, moving out to his shoulders before you run your palms down his arms letting your thumbs enjoy the hills and valleys of his muscles.

When you reach his wrists he opens his hands, palm up, for you to explore.

You do. He has distinct lines on his palms and you trace them with your fingertips. With a feather light touch from your pointer fingers, you draw the length of each of his fingers, one at a time. You make a note--he has no fingerprints. You find the subtle differences exciting; this is how you discover him; this is how you learn what makes him feel good, what doesn't, and what feels really _really_ good.

His response when you reach the tip of each finger is a hitch in his breath like they are particularly sensitive.

You test it a couple times to be sure.

You're sure.

With a firmer touch you press your palms against his and slowly drag your hands down. He curls his fingers to catch your hands and you curl your fingers to let him.

Then you both tighten the hand hold.

The way he touches you sometimes, like right now, you can feel how much he wants you--so much that he feels vulnerable about it; that he wants the reassurance you're right here with him; that you're just as crazy about him as he is about you.

It tells you you're not the only one who feels like this.

You want him to know he's not alone.

You shift up onto your knees and support your weight with a hand on the bed between his side and his arm. You put your other hand on the bed next to his head and shift to put your weight on it. As you do, your body comes into contact with his dick; his breath hitches at the accidental tease. It's not time for that though, not quite yet.

You lean down and touch your forehead to his in your version of a chaste kiss. "If my hands aren't saying it loudly enough," you whisper, "I fucking love your body."

"Heh, message loud and clear Stardust," he hums, "But uh... I like hearing the words too."

"I'm happy to use words _and_ touch then," you dip your hips down a little more and you both moan at the pressure. Fuck, you're teasing yourself as much as him right now. You decide to let him have the full weight of your body and--oh god _so much contact._

It takes your breath away.

 _"Fuck Stardust,"_ Sans moans, "been imagining you on me, just like this, all week."

"Have you?" you melt. _Oh my god,_ how can he be _this_ sweetly adorable? So excited just to have the weight of your body on top of him? You huff a laugh, "--uh, well, I can't wait to hear more about what you've been imagining."

You watch a blue blush spread across his cheeks and you bite your lip.

"Later," you say, partly to let him off the hook. For the moment. And partly to build up the anticipation. Alright, mostly for the anticipation.

For now though, your focus moves to the aesthetic enigma on his shoulder. You lift your body and redistribute your weight so you can hold yourself up with your right hand. You move to let your free fingers trace the shape of the blue and yellow butterfly spanning its wings just southwest of where his collar would be. There's ribbon tattooed loosely around it with several names.

"Tell me about this," you place your hand over it, "please." You're insanely curious.

He meets your eyes. "People I've loved and lost; friends," he motions to the butterfly on his chest, "family," he motions the heart on his shoulder, "I wanted to make sure I always remembered them... I got this so I could keep them close, so I would see their names every day."

The names read; Paula, Poo, Jeff on his chest, Mom, Tracy, and Dad on his shoulder. You trace them all with your finger. It seems so him. The heart behind it, the devotion, the disregard for male tattoo stereotypes.

"I love it," you say. You lean down so you can touch your forehead to his again; your body presses against his dick and this time you feel him flex against you. "I'm so ready to have you in me," you whisper.

"Makes two of us," he breathes, but when your eyes meet his, the look he gives you is worried.

"You're nervous," you blurt, then more softly add, "What are you nervous about?"

He takes a deep breath in and out. He shifts his hand up so he can hold your wrist, fingers gently wrapped around, like it's for comfort. "I, uh, read that only about thirty percent of... people in possession of a vagina regularly orgasm with just vaginal sex. So, I was thinking that maybe we could... do some other stuff first--I mean I would like to--but only if you want--unless you're not worried about--or--well--I could just ask--do you want--do you need--do you orgasm--with vaginal sex?--Is it weird to ask that?"

"Oh--okay--um... _Research_ is a good thing Baby. But it sounds like it kind of scared you? This isn't quantum field theory, Sans, this is just feeling good together."

"I know. I know that Stardust. I just really want to do a good job for you. I thought, uh, getting a little more data--from you--specifically--might be a good idea."

"You want to take a moment to talk about expectations?" you ask.

"Yes, exactly that," he says in relief. You can actually feel most of the tension leave his body, and god, you're so fucking _fond_ of this dork. You give him a smile you're pretty sure is hella dopey. Then you let your body settle back down and Sans takes your weight with a sigh of contentment. He slides his hands over your skin, one along your arm, one up your side, so he can wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you to him.

"O-kay," you say, slightly distracted by the chills you're getting from the increased contact, especially his hands on your back. "I, uh, _can_ orgasm from vaginal," you say, "But--I--um...regularly?--not so much." You feel the need to add, "but I don't need to orgasm every time. It still feels good even when I don't."

You think about it for a few seconds more and realize he was actually _asking_ to do more to you. He really just _wants_ to.

How could you say no to that? Fuck yes he can touch you more. "But--uh... if we, w-want to try for an orgasm then starting with your hands would probably be, um, good. But it's really not failure if we don't, Baby. It's not an expectation, okay? But I'm definitely into that--you touching me--if you want to?"

You feel Sans arms tighten around you a tiny bit. _"Very much so,"_ he agrees.

You shiver at his tone.

"Ahh-lright," you mumble, "Uh, in that case, we're trading places."

"Deal," he says, and before you really register what he's doing he twists, rolls, and has your body quickly under him instead.

"Whoa," you say. There he goes manhandling you again. You look up at him in surprise and his eyes smirk back at you. Then he leans down to touch his forehead to yours. You both close your eyes. This kiss feels both calmingly sweet and surprisingly erotic.

He holds the two of you there for a couple breaths and then moves himself back. You bend and spread your legs so there is space for him between them.

His eyebrows come together a little, "So... lubrication, where do you keep it?" he asks, a breathy serious tone. You bite your lip to try to tamper your smirk, apparently it's a kink watching him venture out of his comfort zone. At least it is when he's doing it for you.

 _Buuut,_ it's probably a little patronizing to tell him how adorable you keep finding him, like every five seconds, right?

"Uh, I don't need any, I've got enough of my own," you answer instead.

"Okay," he says with that serious tone again. Why is that so damn _cute?_ Maybe the concentrated focus he is giving you and the task at hand?

You watch him position himself comfortably between your bent legs. He checks in with you, a quick flick up with the lightpoints of his eyes.

"Get in there," you tease him.

With two fingers he gently but confidently touches you along the outside of your opening, lubricating his fingers with you, then you let out a hum-moan as he slides them slowly into you. You fight against the urge to close your eyes to focus on the sensation, you don't want to miss watching Sans; he looks amazed; that he's inside you right now, that you are letting him do this to your body.

"This is your first time this close to a vagina, right?"

"And a vulva," he says absentmindedly then answers, "Definitely."

"Explore. Experiment. Try things-- _oh god,"_ he hits a particularly great spot inside you and you can't _wording_ anymore.

"Found it," he whispers a little smugly.

"Fuck, thatwas so _megood_ re _search,"_ you say a little high pitched as he experiments with pressure and pace, narrowing in on what really fucking _hits the spot_ for you.

For some reason you hadn't put two and two together and realized that really observant when it comes to reactions could translate to _really observant when it comes to reactions._

When he seems satisfied with your _feedback_ on how to use his fingers inside you, he brings in his other hand and places it low on your belly--below it really. His hand covers most of the triangle shaped area where you have hair, the heel of his palm just touches your sensitive clit. He tries some pressure _\--oh god, wow--_ you didn't even know your body liked that.

"I've, uh, been imagining this all week too," he says almost shyly.

"an?" you ask, articulately.

"Better than I could've imagined," he whispers, awe in his fucking vo-- _uh_ \--okay--not thinking.

But seriously, _damn,_ the care and focus and fucking _affection_ he's infusing into the way he's touching you and looking at you and--fucking-- _making love_ to you.

Making love.

Yeah. That's exactly what this is.

You lean your head back, squeeze your eyes shut and just focus on _feeling._ Feeling his fingers hit that sensitive spot inside you and the pressure from his other hand, not just on your clit, but the whole area--and if feels good--it feels really really good.

Your toes curl and your back arches--but you want to see him--you open your eyes--you take him in--and his expression--oh god--he's so _into you_ \--he's so into _this_ \--into touching you--into knowing he's driving you crazy-- _and god_ is he driving you crazy--your whole body feels like it's tensing--you can't breathe--it feels so fucking _good_ \--you lean back--you squeeze your--eyes closed--your hands in fists--your breath--just quick vocal pants--wait-- _NO_ \--you need to see him--you need to fucking _look_ at him--you need to--oh god--he's so _hot_ \--he's so _fucking hot_ \--and he's breathing fast--he's flushed blue--and he's so hard--he's leaking precum--and fuck--you just need him _closer_ \--you want to _feel_ him--you use your legs--you pull him to you--and fuck you just--you _need to_ \--you just _have to_ \--fucking--hold his eyes--as you feel your _brain--and your body_ \--and your fucking _everything_ \--oh my god-- _there_ \-- _right there_ \--starting at his hands--where they touch you---spreading out---it's all over---it's---all---fucking---- _all_ \----- _"oh Sans"_ \------you manage-------

before-------

you-----------

  
  


\--melt into the bed...

  
  
  


...breathing...

...s'kinda...

...important...

...you should...

...probably...

...keep doing that.

You look at him.

He's breathing fast too.

Almost looks like he came just from watching you.

Thank god that's not actually a thing (is it?) because you are _so_ not done yet.

You want him to feel fucking amazing too.

And you're going to do everything in your power to make that happen.

But right now you just need him _closer_ to you.

_A lot closer._

You grab his hand and pull him up to you, he slides in next to you and you curl into his body, contact all along the length of you.

"Oh my god Sans," you pant.

"Yeah?" he asks breathlessly.

"Yeah," you sigh and he holds you while you both continue to re-oxygenate.

When you finally feel recovered you nudge him and he follows your lead, lays on his back and watches you straddle him, a knee on each side of his waist, with heat and anticipation in his eyes.

He's going to have to wait a little longer though; you're going to tease him first.

He probably should have expected that.

You grab his left hand, still a bit covered in you, and lead his hand to his own cock. He gets what you're asking and he coats himself with two slow and _really fucking seductive_ strokes.

 _Fuck._ Alright. Lubrication, check.

And watching him fuck himself, definitely something you want to do later, _noted._

Next you grab his dick, stroke him once affectionately because _damn,_ you just can't help yourself, and then you tease yourself with him. You rub his dick against your still very sensitive clit and let him know how good it feels, _vocally._ He starts breathing faster and grabs your legs like he needs something to hang onto.

When you've teased him to a sufficient level of sexual frustration you move his dick to your entrance, first just around the outside, letting him only feel a taste of your warmth and wet.

After that, it's just the tip for a bit, then an inch, two inches. And you're driving him crazy, you can see it, and feel it, and hear it--but you're driving yourself crazy too. Fuck, you just want him in you. You want his body inside your body. You want to make him feel amazing with your whole fucking _everything._ And so you line him up, one last time, and slide down, sheathing him all the way inside you.

You hear Sans breathe a couple half-word noises.

"Fuck that feels good," you say, closing your eyes to relish it--his dick so damn deep--but you need to see him. You need to see how much you're affecting him.

Fuck he looks close already. "Don't come yet," you tell him. You feel his dick get incrementally harder for a moment and feel yourself squeeze around him in response.

You don't know if he can actually control his orgasm, but you sure- _as-fuck_ want to see him try.

You also want to be closer, and you know Sans wants that too, so you put your hands over his hands, where they are grasping your thighs--now a little desperately--and you move them so his arms are above his head, just like what he does to you. "Stay," you tell him. He squeezes his eyes shut and you feel him flex inside you again.

 _Fuck._ You knew that word would hold him better than your strength ever could.

You didn't know it would be a _turn on._

"You like me telling you what to do?" you ask, just to be sure. You're a little bossy, not super bossy, but you know you could get into it if he's into it.

He nods and opens his eyes. "I thought I might like it," he says. Then adds, "I like it more than I thought I would."

"Good to know," you tell him with a smirk, _"Definitely_ experimenting with that later."

Then you slide your hands up from his wrists to his palms and your fingers find the spaces between his fingers. You both squeeze, holding onto each other. It's almost painfully tight.

And exactly what you wanted.

Then you go slow. You're not in a hurry to get him off, you want to make this last for both of you. You roll your hips and, with your body leaning forward to pin his arms, his body rubs against yours in a really good way--you both moan.

Then you do that move some more.

And you watch him. You try to take in everything, the feel of him inside you, the feel of his body against your clit, the feel of his fingers tightly--desperately--interlocked with yours; the sounds--hitched-moans interrupting breath--that let you know just how good you're making him feel. The way the scents of your bodies mingle together in some erotic cocktail of pheromones and sweat and you and Sans. And the sight, _god,_ the sight of him; his arms up, he's spread out and vulnerable, and he's vulnerable _for you,_ he's opening himself up _for you,_ letting you touch him in a way that's deep and scary and exciting and good. And you watch him try to watch you, but he has to keep squeezing his eyes shut, because it's so much, it's almost too much, and his muscles tense as he works _so hard_ to follow your instructions; to stay, to not come. To be yours.

"Mine," you think.

All _mine._

And in this moment he is. He's just yours. You have all of him.

 _"Fuck Stardust_...I...I need you to stop."

 _"What?"_ but you do stop, "Okay," you say, "Why?"

"If you don't want me to come yet, I need you to stop."

 _"Oh,"_ that makes sense. "Alright, then I want you on top for a bit." You pull off of him and move to sit beside him so he can switch places with you.

"What?!" Sans says, giving you a wide eyed look.

You're surprised by his reaction. "I--uh--want you on top now," you elaborate, "so we can have our bodies a little closer. And so I can feel held by you."

He sits up and reaches out for you and you let him pull you onto his lap. You sit on his tighs and face each other, his hands at your waist and yours at the back of his neck.

"I, uh, I don't want to be on top," he confesses.

"Okay," you say. You feel confused and, honestly, a little hurt. "Can you tell me why?" you ask.

"Stardust, I..." he seems torn but he takes a deep breath and continues, "Do you have any idea how strong I am?"

You don't, not really. You just know he's really fucking strong. "You're scared you'll hurt me," you say as you realize it.

"I _hate_ the thought of hurting you," he says through a suddenly tight throat.

"...You...know that I find your strength really hot...don't you?"

His expression eases just a little, "I did notice," he says softly.

You smirk at him, "You like it, don't you?"

_"Very much so."_

Oh, fuck, there he goes again with the fucking tone. You feel your body squeeze around the space his dick should be like it's asking for him back.

"Uhm, ah, yes. That's good. Were both _really good_ with that," you say a tad distracted and refocus. _"So,_ do you think maybe you could trust me to tell you if it's too much for me? You're trying to protect me, but I don't want you to make that decision on my behalf."

"I _do_ trust you Stardust. And I trust you to tell me. But that doesn't stop me from being scared... that I'll..."

"You do trust me... but... you don't trust you," you piece together.

"I won't be able to stop thinking about it," he agrees.

"So, is this is a boundary?"

"Yes," he says, soft but firm.

"Okay," you say, you put your hands on the sides of his face and look him in the eyes, "Then we don't have to do that." You lean in and touch your forehead to his.

"Thank you," he says, melting into the kiss. After a couple shared breaths he adds, "Uh... but I do have an idea. If you want close, held by me, and... to feel my strength."

"Hell, yes," you answer.

He has you separate from him long enough to adjust himself into a sitting-with-crossed-legs position. "Here Stardust, you sit here," he motions to his lap, "and wrap your legs around my waist and your arms around my neck. Then I lift you."

"Okay." You move where he says, line him up with you, and slide back onto him _\--fuck yes, still feels amazing--_ and wrap your legs around him. Wow, this is already a great position for your stimulation; you're pretty sure you're gonna like this _a lot._

He runs his hands down your back and you shiver, grinding yourself onto him. You hum out a moan.

"Ah-re you r-ready?" he asks, affected by sensation.

 _"Very much so,"_ you tell him, a touch sassy.

He takes in a deep breath, slides his hands down to your ass, finds a position where he can support all your weight, and then he lifts you up, like it's no big deal-- _oh wow_ \--and he slowly lowers you, working with gravity, to have you slide back down him-- _fuck yes._ He lifts you up-- _really fucking_ \--and back down-- _god that's good_ \--and up again.

He's like _\--god--_ literally fucking himself with you right now.

And it's really _hot. Really really hot._ And you can feel him. And you can watch him. And he's so _strong._ You slide your hands out to his shoulders and then his arms.

You feel his muscles flex and strain as he lifts you up and lets you down. His skin is warm and slick with sweat as he uses his body-- _his amazing body_ \--to pleasure you both. And you just feel so much fucking _awe_ and _affection_ and _desire_ \--and it's all for him--for _Sans--your_ boyfriend--

 _\--"you're so beautiful,"_ he whispers and you have to move your hands back up to his neck; you hold him, your palm to his cheek, you lean in, enough so that you can touch your forehead to his in a kiss. You pant the same air and he moves your bodies together and you listen to him--he's driving himself _crazy_ \--and it's _your body_ doing that to him--it's because of the way he feels _inside_ you.

And because of the way he feels _about you._

He's getting close. You can see it in how his body is tensing, you can feel it in how his dick is harder, and hear it in his breath-- _he's really close--_

\--and _fuck_ \--it's _hot_ \--all of it is _\--so fucking hot--_

"You can come now Sans," you pant, "I want to see you come."

Eyes squeezed shut tight, his body starts to shudder.

He slides his hands up and holds you to him, one arm around your waist, the other at your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

 _"oh Stardust"_ he says, like he can't even help it, and you feel-- _god_ \--like you can almost orgasm with him--like you can almost come again just from _watching him_ and _feeling him_ and _listening to him._

And you feel it as he peaks, as he comes inside you...

and then as the tension in his body melts away.

You hold him hard, through all of it.

And afterward, he tries to stay sitting up, holding you, but his body is trembling. He's so spent.

You nudge him to lay back and he does but he's still so out of it he kinda just lays there, eyes shut, breathing heavy. You can't help smirking at him.

You pull off so you can cuddle him, he's gunna need cuddles, but you immediately realize a complication.

Though you'd love to keep what he left inside you, your body won't cooperate and you'd prefer not to leak onto your bed. Or onto Sans.

"Okay Baby, I'm going to be right back. I just need to..." you decide to just be blunt about it, "to not leak cum on the bed." You touch your forehead to his before rushing off to get cleaned up and go to the bathroom; for avoidance of mess and for health.

After that you bring out a warm washcloth to clean Sans and he's just starting to get responsive. He reaches out for you with a little frown and a grumble of complaint as you move away to put the washcloth back.

"I'll be _right_ back," you smirk at him.

He's hella tempting but you're really fucking thirsty. You fill and drink from the plastic water cup you keep in the bathroom, twice. Sans is probably thirsty too; this was pretty _robust_ sex; you fill it again so you can help him stay hydrated as well. You want to take care of him, especially since his pushed his body so hard for the benefit of you both.

When you come back out, Sans is sitting on the edge of the bed, his boxers already on but nothing else. You hand him the water and grab your underwear to be similarly clothed.

You slide onto the bed and situate yourself behind him, knees bent, sitting on your (still socked) feet so you can snuggle him with your legs. He finishes the water and sets the cup on the floor. You wrap your arms around his waist when he sits back up, resting your chin on his shoulder. You have your front in full contact with his back and he melts into the embrace, bringing his arms up to hug yours to him.

"You'll stay?" you ask him.

"Definitely." He says it with relief like he was worried you wouldn't want that. What a goof.

"Good," you smirk then playfully nibble-kiss his neck; he lets out a hitched breath and a shudder like it gives him the good kind of chills. Definitely have to experiment with that later. "That was pretty fucking intense," you admit, "Physically and emotionally. I really just want to snuggle up in your arms and fall asleep right now."

"Makes two of us," he agrees softly.

Yeah...

Sans needs the cuddles.

You smile and bite your lips as your gut melts from his cuteness. You nuzzle his neck affectionately; it's a good thing cuddles are exactly what you want to give him right now. You squeeze him a tiny bit tighter and he hums contentedly. "I'm crazy about you, did you know that?" you tell him.

"I can feel it," he says. You hear amazement in voice. "It feels really good," he confesses, then after a pause, "I think you're amazing, did you know that?"

"I'm glad you think so," you tell him. You hug him tight one last time before you both shift back on to the bed. There's a moment where neither of you is sure who's gunna be the big spoon and who's gunna be the little spoon but then you just... fall into place. Sans on his back and you curled around him; his arm around your shoulder and your leg thrown over his legs.

"You already talked to your brother?" you ask.

"Yep, Papyrus isn't expecting me back tonight."

"All mine for the night then," you smile.

"All yours," Sans says softly.

Your breath goes shallow at what he's subtly saying. You really want to respond with _I love you._ Minutes go by while you debate if you should. Is it too soon? No, you know what you feel, and time is relative anyway. You swallow. "Are you asleep already?" you ask.

"Huh... what..was..that..Stardust..?"

You bring his hand up to your mouth and press your lips against his skin.

"I'll tell you in the morning," you whisper.

"...okay..." he barely manages through drowsiness and starts making quiet sounds of slumber almost immediately. You look up so you can see his face-- _damn_ he's adorable. You can't even deal sometimes.

You snuggle into him a little more. You just want to hold onto this moment, savor and save it forever.

But your eyes slide shut without your consent.

You open your eyes.

You reach out for Sans.

Your hand falls through the empty air beside you, the place where Sans should be.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

He's not here.

He's never been here.

. . .

  
space  
the empty place  
beside me  
that should be you  
  
time  
inside then  
when i find you and  
my hollow mind now  
  
spacetime  
the grid that binds  
your fate and mine  
i follow  
  
this is how I find you  
  


[. . .](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061163/chapters/30938157#pagetop)

  
  
  



	5. . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Alright, I want to put a note here in warning that this path is angsty. Really really angsty. Heartwrenchingly angsty. I just don't want you too surprised when I break your hearts with this story, okay?
> 
> You just had some awesome sex, you can end here and go [back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565772/chapters/29143716#pagetop) if you want. We can pretend this never happened. I mean, yeah, you'll miss out on the more sex in The Skeleton Key but you won't get your heart broken.
> 
> So this is a real decision you, my dear reader, have to make for yourself, okay?
> 
> [Turn back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565772/chapters/29143716#pagetop) or keep going?

. . .

Answer Your Damn Phone

To: Me

Date: November Something, 2017

From: Kate

You weren't in class today and I'm irrationally worrying you did exactly what I said you shouldn't do. Just answer your damn phone. I'm freaking out.

. . .

You wake up.

You blink and see darkness, blink some more and your eyes start adjusting to the morning twilight. Something is different.

This is your room, your bed, but the difference is your legs are tangled with Sans'. He is soft, solid, and warm. You smile.

But why are you awake? You almost always sleep through the night, something must've woken you.

You hear a small sound like pain come from Sans. A quiet "no" and a hitch of breath.

Oh. He's having a nightmare. You sit up and look at his face; his brows are drawn together, smile a touch less than normal. You've never actually seen his face look _this_ unhappy.

"Papyrus!" he says. He jolts awake, sits up abruptly and blinks confused at your room.

"Just a nightmare, Sans," you reassure him, start to reach out, then abort the motion.

Sans takes a couple breaths like he just ran somewhere. It takes him a second to respond. "Not a nightmare," he says, "a memory."

"A memory?! What _happened,_ Sans?"

He turns to you, meets your eyes with his, points of light glowing in the darkness. "I watched Papyrus die. I watched the Anomaly kill him."

You don't understand any part of what he just said. "Sans, you were on the phone with Papyrus last night, he was fine. What do you mean you have a memory of him _dying?"_

It is in the moment of stillness before he answers that you start to realize Sans is afraid. Really afraid. Suddenly you are too.

He closes his eyes like he lost an argument in his own mind. Head down he says, "In a different timeline, Papyrus is murdered and I see it happen. I've been reliving it in my dreams for months."

"Oh my god." You cover your mouth with your hand. "That's so fucked up. I'm so sorry..." you start, but what else can you really say about that?

You freeze for a second, something in the back of your brain is telling you to look at what he just said again. You ask, "The--the timeline collapsed, that's why you're getting the memories, isn't it?"

He nods, and you are suddenly terrified. You swallow.

In a quiet voice you ask, "Sans, do you think, is... is this timeline in danger of collapsing too?"

He finally looks at you again. The pain in his eyes gives you your answer. "I know it is, Stardust," he confesses, "I've always known it would end."

It feels like your heart stops--your throat is so tight--you can't breathe. "We have to _stop it._ How do we stop it?" you voice comes out wrecked and Sans expression becomes somehow more heartbroken. "Sans, I can't lose you," you whisper. You feel sharpness build up behind your eyes, you're close to tears.

"I'm so sorry," he says, "I shouldn't have let us get so involved. I tried not to, I wanted to spare you, but I just... I just _wanted..."_

"Don't _ever_ be sorry for that," you say with conviction. "I will _never_ regret this, no matter what happens. Understand?" You wait till he nods. "And we have each other, Sans," you add trying to grab onto your hope. "Right now. We can work faster. We can give it all our focus. We'll find a way. We'll stop it."

He looks at you like he wants to believe it. Like he wishes he could.

You wake up.

You open your eyes.

You sit up straighter.

You look over and see your blotchy reflection. You wipe the tears off your face, exhale hard. An oval of condensation fogs up the cold surface and blocks the scenery passing by your train window.

. . .

  
this touch, this taste  
this sight. scent. sound.  
what did we make it  
changed fate's path bound  
  
this hole bereft  
i must have left you  
soul fragments  
tangled around  
  
this heart shaped piece  
you lost with me  
i start to see  
as cartography  
  
this is how i find you  


. . .

Please Don't Do This

To: Me

Date: October Something, 2017

From: Kate

I'm assuming from the silence that you're already on your way to Ebott.

M, you read the same shit I did, no one has EVER returned. You have no idea what you're walking in to. You could get trapped forever. You could die.

Just, please don't do this. I wish asking you to do it for me was enough but I know it's not. But what about for Sans? You know he wouldn't want you putting yourself in danger. What about for yourself? M, this could literally be the death of you. I know you don't want to die. You have so much to live for.

Just, at least please answer. Tell me you really thought about this.

Tell me this is really what you want.

Tell me you've thought about everything that you're risking.

If you're leaving me forever, at least give me that.

. . .

You sit on a blanket, tree against your back, Sans against your front.

It took you a while to get him okay with laying on you, in any fashion; he worries about crushing you. He _is_ heavy, but not nearly as heavy as he thinks he is.

You're cuddling him, his back leaning on you, and you imagine for a moment you can protect him with your heart and with your arms. You press your lips to his temple then settle your cheek back to resting against the soft firm skin of that spot.

Fuck, you _love_ being allowed to hold him like this.

Right now, meteors burn up in the atmosphere above you, you pretend to watch, but the way it feels, physically and emotionally, to hold Sans in your arms, is still way more breathtaking than astronomical fireworks.

The light show isn't even second on your list of most attention grabbing, not at the moment... unfortunately.

Without preamble you state, "It's going to work," like saying it can somehow make it true. "But, uh, just in case... You'll have the memories, you can find me again... right?"

He doesn't answer, which is itself an answer.

"Sans?" you press, moving your head to see his expression.

He sighs, "I can't find you if I'm trapped."

 _"What?"_ Your arms tighten around him. "Why would you be trapped Sans?" Your throat feels closed. Your lungs feel small.

"There's a barrier," he says, "it's open now, but it'll close again." After another long pause he continues, "I won't be able to do much with the memories anyway. We were trapped repeating the same three days over and over."

"Fuck," you squeeze your eyes shut and hug him to you harder.

This shit is so scary because you don't fucking understand how it works. Sometimes it's hard just to keep thinking of what to do next.

"I won't be stuck in the same three days, right?"

"No, you won't. That cycle doesn't affect your world unless the portal is open."

"Alright, so either the portal will open and you can find me, or I will have much more time and I can work on our research. _So,_ how do I remember faster?"

"You won't have the crystal," Sans points out. "It will be trapped behind the barrier with me. You can't finish either device without the crystal."

Dammit, that's true. What can you even _do?_ You can't stop _any_ of this without the device.

Maybe you can get it started, then come to him? Finish it together in the three days he has? Then you just need to know where--

"And..." Sans continues; your dread increases, "The more emotionally intense memories come back better. Other less intense memories get drowned out like noise."

You realize what he's saying. Air flows quickly in and out of your lungs before you force yourself to calm down. You can't freak out right now; you need to keep your head.

The words need to be said out loud, you do it since he apparently won't; your voice comes out flat. "We'll remember each other--we'll remember being together--but we won't remember the research."

His silence speaks so loudly.

You swallow the despair trying to close your throat. "Then we know what we have to do," you say.

 _"Stardust, no._ " He turns his head so he can actually make eye contact with you. "If this doesn't work, and the _chance_ of it working is _very low,_ then we destroy _all our chances."_

"And if we wait too long the timeline resets and we get separated, _forever."_

"I know, but the risk--"

"is irrelevant when it's the _only_ option."

That stops his argument short. He huffs a breath. "Fine" he says sharply, like he really doesn't want you to be right about this. "But Stardust," he holds your eyes, dead serious, "if this doesn't work I need you to promise me something."

"Okay... what do you need?"

"Don't be reckless."

You shake your head. What does that even-- "What do you think I'm going to _do?"_

"You're impulsive. It's dangerous," he says, not actually answering you. _What is he talking about?_

Your relationship?

"Sans, are you talking about us?" you whisper, hoping you're really wrong about that. "Are you regretting--"

 _"No,"_ he says sharply, then softens his tone, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." His hand on the ground moves to lightly wrap around your ankle, like he just needs a little more contact--like you both do. "Just don't get hurt because of me," he whispers, "okay Stardust?"

"Sans, I make my _own_ choices. If anything were to happen, that's on me." Then you realize that isn't going to help him feel better. "Baby, I go after what I want," you say like, _please accept me for who I am._ "I learned life is too short to wait. So I make things happen, I'm brave, I chose to believe in myself."

He sighs and lets his body rest against you a little heavier.

It _feels_ like acceptance.

After a beat he says, "Sometimes the lesson you learn is incomplete. Sometimes you have to unlearn what you thought the lesson was." He's being cryptic again.

You frown, confused. "So you're saying I _shouldn't_ have learned to go after the things I want?"

"I'm just saying, look before you leap."

"O-kay," you say, not understanding what he won't quite tell you. But you'll hang onto the lesson if he thinks it's that important.

_Look before you leap._

"Okay Sans, I'll remember that."

You wake up.

You open your eyes.

You take a deep breath.

Not much longer now.

. . .

  
once when you  
moved my hips  
tight to yours  
against a wall  
  
thrice when you  
traced my lips  
it felt so raw  
my breath would stall  
  
your fingers trailed  
paths on my soul  
truths unveiled  
maps to be whole  
  
this is how i find you  
  


. . .

I Have Thought About It

To: Kate

Date: November Something, 2017

From: Me

Kate, I did think about it. I'm standing next to the portal right now writing you this message so you know I'm really thinking about this. I'm not just jumping in reckless.

You're right, I would be risking everything on the CHANCE that Sans and I will be together again. On the CHANCE that I might be able to make a difference.

And, man it sounds crazy when you look at it like that. Why do I think I could make a difference? I'm not important. I'm not special. I'm not that smart or strong or powerful. I'm honestly a bit of a fuck up. A mess. Even when I'm not dealing with anxiety or depression, I still feel like I'm just barely getting by.

Why do I think I can help them? Sans is way smarter and more powerful. If he can't save himself, if he can't save his world, then what hope do I have? I'd be giving up everything I have in this world to probably just die in that one.

But Kate. I want to be with Sans.

I KNOW that. I'm more sure about it than I've ever been about anything. And I have this feeling; hope, belief, knowledge maybe, that I can make a difference. 

I might be wrong. And if I am, I'm probably going to get myself killed. But if I'm right? If I CAN make a difference and I don't go?

Then the whole of Sans' world suffers.

This is my decision, I decide to go.  
I choose to believe in myself.  
I choose to risk everything.  
For hope. For love.  
And [for Sans.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12565772/chapters/29965590#pagetop)  


  
  
  



	6. . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Alright, I want to put a note here in warning that this path is angsty. Really really angsty. Heartwrenchingly angsty. I just don't want you too surprised when I break your hearts with this story, okay?
> 
> You just had some awesome sex, you can end here and go [back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565772/chapters/29143716#pagetop) if you want. We can pretend this never happened. I mean, yeah, you'll miss out on the more sex in The Skeleton Key but you won't get your heart broken.
> 
> So this is a real decision you, my dear reader, have to make for yourself, okay?
> 
> [Turn back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565772/chapters/29143716#pagetop) or keep going?

. . .

Answer Your Damn Phone

To: Me

Date: September 25, 2017

From: Kate

You weren't in class today and I'm irrationally worrying you did exactly what I said you shouldn't do. Just answer your damn phone. I'm freaking out.

. . .

You wake up.

You blink and see darkness, blink some more and your eyes start adjusting to the morning twilight. Something is different.

This is your room, your bed, but the difference is your legs are tangled with Sans'. He is soft, solid, and warm. You smile.

But why are you awake? You almost always sleep through the night, something must've woken you.

You hear a small sound like pain come from Sans. A quiet "no" and a hitch of breath.

Oh. He's having a nightmare. You sit up and look at his face; his brows are drawn together, smile a touch less than normal. You've never actually seen his face look _this_ unhappy.

"Papyrus!" he says. He jolts awake, sits up abruptly and blinks confused at your room.

"Just a nightmare, Sans," you reassure him, start to reach out, then abort the motion.

Sans takes a couple breaths like he just ran somewhere. It takes him a second to respond. "Not a nightmare," he says, "a memory."

"A memory?! What _happened,_ Sans?"

He turns to you, meets your eyes with his, points of light glowing in the darkness. "I watched Papyrus die. I watched the Anomaly kill him."

You don't understand any part of what he just said. "Sans, you were on the phone with Papyrus last night, he was fine. What do you mean you have a memory of him _dying?"_

It is in the moment of stillness before he answers that you start to realize Sans is afraid. Really afraid. Suddenly you are too.

He closes his eyes like he lost an argument in his own mind. Head down he says, "In a different timeline, Papyrus is murdered and I see it happen. I've been reliving it in my dreams for months."

"Oh my god." You cover your mouth with your hand. "That's so fucked up. I'm so sorry..." you start, but what else can you really say about that?

You freeze for a second, something in the back of your brain is telling you to look at what he just said again. You ask, "The--the timeline collapsed, that's why you're getting the memories, isn't it?"

He nods, and you are suddenly terrified.

You swallow.

"Sans, do you think, is... is this timeline in danger of collapsing too?"

He finally looks at you. The pain in his eyes gives you your answer. "I know it is, Stardust," he confesses, "I've always known it would end."

It feels like your heart stops--your throat is so tight--you can't breathe. "We have to _stop it._ How do we stop it?" you voice comes out wrecked and Sans expression becomes somehow more heartbroken. "Sans, I can't lose you," you whisper. You feel sharpness build up behind your eyes, you're close to tears.

"I'm so sorry," he says, "I shouldn't have let us get so involved. I tried not to, I wanted to spare you, but I just... I just _wanted..."_

"Don't _ever_ be sorry for that," you say with conviction. "I will _never_ regret this, no matter what happens. Understand?" You wait till he nods. "And we have each other, Sans," you add trying to grab onto your hope. "Right now. We can work faster. We can give it all our focus. We'll find a way. We'll stop it."

He looks at you like he wants to believe it. Like he wishes he could.

You wake up.

You open your eyes.

You sit up straighter.

You look over and see your blotchy reflection. You wipe the tears off your face, exhale hard. An oval of condensation fogs up the cold surface and blocks the scenery passing by your train window.

. . .

  
this touch, this taste  
this sight. scent. sound.  
what did we make it  
changed fate's path bound  
  
this hole bereft  
i must have left you  
soul fragments  
tangled around  
  
this heart shaped piece  
you lost with me  
i start to see  
as cartography  
  
this is how i find you  


. . .

Please Don't Do This

To: Me

Date: September 27, 2017

From: Kate

I'm assuming from the silence that you're already on your way to Ebott.

M, you read the same shit I did, no one has EVER returned. You have no idea what you're walking in to. You could get trapped forever. You could die.

Just, please don't do this. I wish asking you to do it for me was enough but I know it's not. But what about for Sans? You know he wouldn't want you putting yourself in danger. What about for yourself? M, this could literally be the death of you. I know you don't want to die. You have so much to live for.

Just, at least please answer. Tell me you really thought about this.

Tell me this is really what you want.

Tell me you've thought about everything that you're risking.

If you're leaving me forever, at least give me that.

. . .

You sit on a blanket, tree against your back, Sans against your front.

It took you a while to get him okay with laying on you, in any fashion; he worries about crushing you. He _is_ heavy, but not nearly as heavy as he thinks he is.

You're cuddling him, his back leaning on you, and you imagine for a moment you can protect him with your heart and with your arms. You press your lips to his temple then settle your cheek back to resting against the soft firm skin of that spot.

Fuck, you _love_ being allowed to hold him like this.

Right now, meteors burn up in the atmosphere above you, you pretend to watch, but the way it feels, physically and emotionally, to hold Sans in your arms, is still way more breathtaking than astronomical fireworks.

The light show isn't even second on your list of most attention grabbing, not at the moment... unfortunately.

Without preamble you state, "It's going to work," like saying it can somehow make it true. "But, uh, just in case... You'll have the memories, you can find me again... right?"

He doesn't answer, which is itself an answer.

"Sans?" you press, moving your head to see his expression.

He sighs, "I can't find you if I'm trapped."

 _"What?"_ Your arms tighten around him. "Why would you be trapped Sans?" Your throat feels closed. Your lungs feel small.

"There's a barrier," he says, "it's open now, but it'll close again." After another long pause he continues, "I won't be able to do much with the memories anyway. We were trapped repeating the same three days over and over."

"Fuck," you squeeze your eyes shut and hug him to you harder.

This shit is so scary because you don't fucking understand how it works. Sometimes it's hard just to keep thinking of what to do next.

"I won't be stuck in the same three days, right?"

"No, you won't. That cycle doesn't affect your world unless the portal is open."

"Alright, so either the portal will open and you can find me, or I will have much more time and I can work on our research. _So,_ how do I remember faster?"

"You won't have the crystal," Sans points out. "It will be trapped behind the barrier with me. You can't finish either device without the crystal."

Dammit, that's true. What can you even _do?_ You can't stop _any_ of this without the device.

Maybe you can get it started, then come to him? Finish it together in the three days he has? Then you just need to know where--

"And..." Sans continues; your dread increases, "The more emotionally intense memories come back better. Other less intense memories get drowned out like noise."

You realize what he's saying. Air flows quickly in and out of your lungs before you force yourself to calm down. You can't freak out right now; you need to keep your head.

The words need to be said out loud, you do it since he apparently won't; your voice comes out flat. "We'll remember each other--we'll remember being together--but we won't remember the research."

His silence speaks so loudly.

You swallow the despair trying to close your throat. "Then we know what we have to do," you say.

 _"Stardust, no._ " He turns his head so he can actually make eye contact with you. "If this doesn't work, and the _chance_ of it working is _very low,_ then we destroy _all our chances."_

"And if we wait too long the timeline resets and we get separated, _forever."_

"I know, but the risk--"

"is irrelevant when it's the _only_ option."

That stops his argument short. He huffs a breath. "Fine" he says sharply, like he really doesn't want you to be right about this. "But Stardust," he holds your eyes, dead serious, "if this doesn't work I need you to promise me something."

"Okay... what do you need?"

"Don't be reckless."

You shake your head. What does that even-- "What do you think I'm going to _do?"_

"You're impulsive. It's dangerous," he says, not actually answering you. _What is he talking about?_

Your relationship?

"Sans, are you talking about us?" you whisper, hoping you're really wrong about that. "Are you regretting--"

 _"No,"_ he says sharply, then softens his tone, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." His hand on the ground moves to lightly wrap around your ankle, like he just needs a little more contact--like you both do. "Just don't get hurt because of me," he whispers, "okay Stardust?"

"Sans, I make my _own_ choices. If anything were to happen, that's on me." Then you realize that isn't going to help him feel better. "Baby, I go after what I want," you say like, _please accept me for who I am._ "I learned life is too short to wait. So I make things happen, I'm brave, I chose to believe in myself."

He sighs and lets his body rest against you a little heavier.

It _feels_ like acceptance.

After a beat he says, "Sometimes the lesson you learn is incomplete. Sometimes you have to unlearn what you thought the lesson was." He's being cryptic again.

You frown, confused. "So you're saying I _shouldn't_ have learned to go after the things I want?"

"I'm just saying, look before you leap."

"O-kay," you say, not understanding what he won't quite tell you. But you'll hang onto the lesson if he thinks it's that important.

_Look before you leap._

"Okay Sans, I'll remember that."

You wake up.

You open your eyes.

You take a deep breath.

Not much longer now.

. . .

  
once when you  
moved my hips  
tight to yours  
against a wall  
  
thrice when you  
traced my lips  
it felt so raw  
my breath would stall  
  
your fingers trailed  
paths on my soul  
truths unveiled  
maps to be whole  
  
this is how i find you  
  


. . .

I Have Thought About It

To: Kate

Date: September 29, 2017

From: Me

Kate, I did think about it. I'm standing next to the portal right now writing you this message so you know I'm really thinking about this. I'm not just jumping in reckless.

You're right, I would be risking everything on the CHANCE that Sans and I will be together again. On the CHANCE that I might be able to make a difference.

And, man it sounds crazy when you look at it like that. Why do I think I could make a difference? I'm not important. I'm not special. I'm not that smart or strong or powerful. I'm honestly a bit of a fuck up. A mess. Even when I'm not dealing with anxiety or depression, I still feel like I'm just barely getting by.

Why do I think I can help them? Sans is way smarter and more powerful. If he can't save himself, if he can't save his world, then what hope do I have? I'd be giving up everything I have in this world to probably just die in that one.

But Kate. I want to be with Sans.

I KNOW that. I'm more sure about it than I've ever been about anything. And I have this feeling; hope, belief, knowledge maybe, that I can make a difference. 

I might be wrong. And if I am, I'm probably going to get myself killed. But if I'm right? If I CAN make a difference and I don't go?

Then the whole of Sans' world suffers.

This is my decision, I decide to go.  
I choose to believe in myself.  
I choose to risk everything.  
For hope. For love.  
And [for Sans.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12565772/chapters/29965590#pagetop)  


  
  
  



End file.
